Harold the Heir
by Splawheel
Summary: Non horcrux infant Harry Potter ends up transplanted into the role of Harold Hardyng of the Vale through the meddling of a much older alternate HP attempting to prevent him from becoming the MoD, raised by Dursleys, or face Voldermort. Now a Vale raised knight with the aid of his altern.'s grimoire, how will Harold the Heir alter the coming Game of Thrones. H/multi & more magic.
1. Prologue

Harrold the Heir

 **Author's Note:** This fan fiction is meant to examine three "What If" scenarios. I hope that changing these three things will send the Game of Thrones careening off its cannon axis into a new and enjoyable story. **First** : I want a story where the Vale enters the conflict and politics right from the start. The Vale, like Dorne, are barely involved until the third/fourth books, so that will change. **Second** : I am throwing a wizard born as Harry Potter, with his skills, abilities, and personality into a position to get the Vale involved. I may tweak HP cannon spell casting slightly and hope it works for everyone.

Harry will be a bit out of character from JK Rowling's works because his upbringing will be different. If being the B-W-L can turn Neville into an arrogant jerk as has been portrayed many times in other AU Harry Potter settings, then being raised in the Westerosi culture by a loving and supportive family will do the same to Harry. I am firm believer in characters and people being a complex soup of nature and nurture. **Third** : I want a story where magic, the supernatural, and gods/religion play a much larger part of the story. In cannon I think supernatural aspects of the series are a four out of ten, which may get larger in the final acts. I'm cranking it up to eight from the start. I am doing this because I think it will make for a good read. And so our protagonist wizard has some worthy adversaries instead of running roughshod over everyone and turning this story into crack fic.

I have no intention of redoing Martin's fantastic work. He brings this world alive with multiple characters gaining points of view to carry along separate storylines. This will be Harry's story and the other plot threads written by George RR Martin will be occurring just as he has written them simultaneously with mine unless stated. There will quickly be divergences as other's react to Harry's moves as well as the growing power of other magic users and followers of religion. But these changes will mostly be experienced as Harry encounters them personally or hears about them via raven, messenger, or rumor. As the story gets further from cannon I will start up other POVs to show the new situations and dynamics. Martin's world is awesome (which you probably agree with or else you wouldn't be here reading this). I'm not going to try recreate his writing style, just hopefully give you an interesting story that takes place in his world.

There are only two changes to cannon that occur prior to the start of the story. First, I'm making the Starks kids older by two years. This clashes with cannon because of the timing of Robb's birth and Robert's Rebellion, but I want them to be older. This is primarily to make Robb, Jon, and Bran's adventures and battle prowess more believable. Also to make whoever ends up getting with Sansa a little less squicky to my modern sensibilities. At the time of Tyrion's trial in the Vale Harry is barely 18, Robb and Jon 16, Sansa 15, Arya 14, Bran 12, and Rickon 10. Second, when the Starks are heading to King's Landing and Joffrey has his little hissy fit/murder spree with Mycah the butcher's boy, the dire wolves Lady and Nymeria are not killed or lost. They are instead caged and sent back to Winterfell. Why I'm doing this will become obvious as the story progresses.

COPYRIGHT DISCLAIMER

I do not claim to own or intend to profit from the usage of any intellectual property of the authors JK Rowling, or George RR Martin, or any corporations with current ownership of their intellectual property. This work is intended to be transformative and utilize the crossover genre to yield a new story that should hopefully not dilute, criticize, or denigrate the intellectual property of the authors it is derived from. I will of course comply with any requests to remove my story from public consumption if the authors or copyright holders make such a request. I consider this declaration to apply to all my work relating to the story _Harold the Heir_ and hope this declaration will suffice for the entirety of the fan fiction story.

Enough mumbo jumbo, now onto the story.

Prologue: When a Wizard meddles quite a bit too much

Harry Potter-Black-Peverell was privately celebrating his seven hundred and first birthday. For the last few years he had been meditating on his life on a small tropical island that he placed under Fidelius wards back in his roaring two hundreds. He had seemingly done it all since accidentally absorbing his Peverell ancestor's highly enchanted Hallows into his person, becoming the mysterious Master of Death. Early on, after his defeat of Tom Riddle, he worked tirelessly to see all Death Eaters and their sympathizers brought to justice, using any means necessary. It hadn't been as hard as he though it would be though, since he won the Minister of Magic position two years after Voldermort's death in an unprecedented write in campaign carried out by his friends and fellow survivors of the Battle of Hogwarts.

Thirty years later he not only cleaned up and modernized Magical Britain, but snatched up a large part of it's economy with all of the businesses he provided capital for. Harry also repopulated his three hyphenated houses with three different wives. His private life had been quite the adventure in itself as he went a little overboard in his desire for a big family and then had to deal with the consequences. It certainly didn't help that he continued to look a young man while his children and wives aged without him.

So he took his show on the road, leaving his heirs and exes quite well off and became a trouble shooter for the International Confederation of Wizards, then Supreme Mugwump. When that got old he sought to learn all he could of magic and traveled the world researching and learning, aided greatly by the power to summon the dead. The culmination of his three hundreds was to create an interactive Grimoire that held all of his accumulated knowledge as well as a smattering of his personality and wisdom. It would provide information only for those he keyed in, and only what the Grimoire felt they were ready to learn.

That got old as well, so he started participating more directly in the muggle world. Learning their science, getting involved with their space exploration programs and politics. All the while experiencing every kind of romantic relationship he could conceive. In his sixth century his pursuit of new experiences even led him to fruitlessly attempting celibacy as a Tibetan monk, but his own youthful drive wouldn't cooperate for more than a month. It was after that failed life experience he realized he was quite bored with life. He spent a cool ten years figuring out a way out from his Immortal existence.

Now he was in the remembrance phase of his life, as he felt reviewing things, finding peace and learning lessons was important. It also gave him a chance to reevaluate his boredom, and figure out if there was anything else he would like to try or get involved with. He was also updating his Grimoire's overseeing personality matrix with his more advanced perspective as well as a smattering of muggle physics, dimensional physics, astronomy, and chemistry concepts that played no small part in the practice of magic. In his ruminations he was also sorting through alternate dimensions which were key in his plan to... end his life... sort-of.

Really, Harry only needed to bridge the divide between alternate universes and eat his wand or apparate into space because he had already figured out after aging for the first time in centuries during an exciting adventure in a alternate Futuristic Earth where connected alternate universes were actually fighting each other. That little conflict provided the dimension window he was using to plan out his end. But Harry, in looking back on his life, decided he would like one more adventure, and he wanted to help out an alternate self in the process.

So he found the closest alternate universe to his own as well as a separate one that was quite different in era and composition. As he well knew, Time between universes was...nothing more than a variable when Magic rather than technology provided the transportation. And with exquisite precision planned out the runic portals required to meddle with these two alternate universes for his final hurrah.

HP-aSoIaF

Two months later

On the outskirts of Godric's Hollow, intense Wizard Aversion and Notice-me-not wards were keeping his placement of pre-fabricated ritual runic arrays under wraps. When he had everything arranged to keep his arrival location and timeframe precise he dissipated the wards to prevent any unintended magical interference.

It took massive amounts of mana (the term he popularized while attempting to quantify magic scientifically in his four hundreds) that would leave most adults exhausted if not comatose or dead. To him it was little more than a quarter of his core's capacity. When it was ready the portal solidified, and he saw a very similar Godric's Hallow through the figurative Lewis Carollian looking glass. He noticed Halloween decorations and knew he had the right time of the year at the least. Taking a deep breath he stepped through the portal, taking with him his active channeling of magic, which neatly collapsed the portal behind him as the very rune carved marble plinths were sucked dry of energy and mana by the collapsing portal, leaving them to disintegrate. By design no traces of his breach of universes were left for others to follow in his footsteps.

Harry stopped a reveler to ask for the year and the time. The quite drunk elderly wizard let him know he arrived at precisely when he aimed for. Harry hustled to his alternate parents hidden sanctuary and knew that he had to hurry as it was clearly visible, the Fidelius ward shattered in Voldermort's hubris to display his work. Some might question why he did not intercede sooner and save his alternate parents, but having spoken extensively with his own parents' ghosts and viewed alternate dimensions where the Potter couple survived to raise Harry he was not concerned about their fate. He specifically chose this dimension because it progressed so closely to his own.

Harry noticed a suspicious rat on the way in and stunned it, forced it back into its human form, then slit it's throat. Brutal, but he wouldn't be staying in this world long enough to ensure this betrayer Pettigrew got the justice he deserved. The sniveling traitor was also quite the hand of fate in this timeline and without a Harry Potter around it would be best to decisively deal with one of the lead architects of his alternate self's future tragedies and suffering.

He heard a woman shout and then scream on the level above and he took the chance to Apparate quietly onto the landing outside his alternate self's nursery. Through the door he saw an alternate Lily Potter on the ground, lifeless, while the still somewhat human looking Tom Riddle pointed his wand at alternate Harry in his crib.

He had no intention of allowing the other Harry to be burdened with a Horcrux and Lily's final protection spell would linger even longer if it went untested. So he took a dueling stance and called out, "Hey Riddle! You killed my father, prepare to die you muggleborn bastard!" That got Voldermort's attention though the muggle hating bigot probably did not get the slight 'Princess Bride' reference.

As arrogant as ever, the self-proclaimed Dark Lord didn't retreat or shield when surprised by an adversary as any rational combatant would. Instead the killing curse primed for alternate Harry Potter was instead launched in his direction. But Harry was both faster and had the jump on young Riddle. So he got off a spell he devised called the Horcrux Special, effective only against those cursed beings missing pieces of their soul. It's golden bolt of light would snuff out the targeted fragment and travel along tethers of spirit through the astral plane to burn out any other soul shards still on the physical plane.

He dodged out of instinct but also had time to raise a Soul Shield against the green bolt of the killing curse. This very selective shield is a defensive charm that he hoped an Indian witch would still invent some two hundred years in this dimensions future to specifically block the Killing curse. Voldermort looked at what appeared to be James Potter in utter shock. Before screaming in pain and collapsing. Making sure he got the job done, Harry fired off a cutting curse to decapitate his downed foe. He then grabbed up Riddle's wand. A sustained Incendio charm set the body on fire, keeping it incredibly hot but contained until even the carbon soot was powder.

Harry was in a hurry so he blew out a wall and sent Voldermort's disintegrated remains swirling out into the world. He quickly conjured a lump of clay and a large fur hide and transfigured them into a nice furry homunculi which he animated into picking up the balling alternate Harry Potter. He followed that with the gentle Mother's Helper sleeping charm to spare his alternate self the jarring experience of teleportation. Harry could probably have picked up his alternate-infant self, in that dimensional war he had seen many alternates fight each other and not explode or cease to exist. But why take the chance?

He turned the now animated homunculi into a portkey, and it was soon gone in a blue shimmer followed by a spinning crack. Harry decided to further stage the scene with scorched walls and a destroyed crib. He then quickly followed his new temporary charge to the pre-ordained destination. The woods outside Boston, England in the county of Lincolnshire.

In this dimension it held little significance, but in the universes where this planet contained a versions of Westoros it corresponded to the outskirts of the feudal domain of House Waynwood. A location called Ironoaks in the Eastern Kingdom known as the Vale. Once he set the runic portal variables on the marble blocks he would soon be stealing from the local big box construction supplier, they would be traveling together to a very specific point in time. One where a well-born recent widow with black hair and green eyes was freezing to death caught in a sudden blizzard between the towns of Moon Gate and Ironoaks. In many timelines her little boy would survive the night and be raised as the Arryn's spare heir by their Waynwood liegeman. But Harry had found a dimension were this was not the case.

As the multi-hyphenated former immortal painstakingly carved runic arrays and shaped the pilfered marble blocks into the necessary constructs, as well as measuring out distances for his next portal he recalled his latest hobby: dimension window watching. Having won his wars and achieved his goals in the conflict's aftermath, he started seeking out other interesting struggles to view. He had been forged by the times he lived in, and the many achievements he accomplished afterwards were a direct result of the type of person his adversity had created.

Harry wanted his rescued alternate self to have the same challenges, although hopefully with a lot more childhood joy and adequate preparation than he'd had. His window watching led him more and more to dimensions mired in the past, places were a Wizard could really shine. Also places were the world's magics was still wild, vibrant, and powerful. Places were magical creatures as well as gods and demi-gods were empowered both by the untapped world's natural magic and the inhabitants' much less cynical or atheistic belief systems.

It was the world of Westeros and Essos he finally decided upon. In that pseudo-medieval-to-renaissance world two very powerful Demi-Gods from overlapping inter-dimensions would build up enough energy every couple thousands years or so to really let loose with their stored magical power. Their struggle reminded him a lot of a Robert Frost poem he embarrassingly first encountered taking his second wife to see a...gulp...Twilight movie.

These two beings would eventually be the mechanism of the world's apocalypse, both trying to end life on the planet but through opposite methods. One through the Long Night freezing everything in a never ending Ice Age powered by fear, the other through burning passions, all consuming war then probably quickly followed by unending fire. Both utilized versions of necromancy. Both could grant some pretty stellar powers to their minions. Both were extremely cunning and patient. But calming the flames of war and driving back monstrous undead ice zombies would be the perfect avenue for a powerful wizard to have some amazing challenges. It was why he chose this time period right on the cusp of the War of the Five Kings with the Long Night's return in the not to distant future.

He would give his alternate self a grand adventure if he wanted it. Or the kid could ride it out in the Vale, or even head off into the wider world and do his own thing. While Harry noticed a few self-serving prophecies generated by the "Lord of Light" and the "Great Other", there weren't any chosen ones like he had been. Harry had watched the whole thing play out in a number of similar alternate dimensions. In none of them did the world actually end during the time frame he was focused on, although in one very dark version the Others did kill everyone in the Seven kingdoms before the continent of Essos marshaled their forces and put a stop to their frigid conquest.

So little baby alternate Harry had options. And no opportunity to become immortal as far as Harry could discern. If his rescued self played his cards right he could have not only a very awesome life but create a legacy just as lasting his own. He was very excited for his other self, and for his own chance to finally rest. He really wanted to go on to the next great adventure, and perhaps see his parents, wives, children, lovers, and friends once again. He was so brimming with expectation he barely paused in his crafting of the dimensional portal.

By the time the greys and reds of false dawn peaked over the horizon he had finished his second to last magical work. As the portal snapped into place he could see the already cold body of Lana Hardyng nee Waynwood, daughter of an Arryn, draped around her equally frozen fifteen month old boy. His animated life-sized fluffy construct preceded him through the portal which snapped shut behind him.

He quickly removed the dead Harrold Hardyng toddler and transfigured it into a rock which he tossed into a nearby stream, shattering it with a Reducto charm right before it landed in the waters. He did say a small prayer to the native personification of Death, the Stranger, for mother and child before continuing. He cast a warming charm in the hollow the deceased toddler had recently inhabited and his homunculi gently place little alternate Harry Potter into it's place. A quick long-term transfiguration saw little Harry now dressed in the exact same clothes as the child he was replacing. When forced into a shape not their own for far too long, the Earth clothes would eventually disintegrate rather than revert, thereby protecting little Harry's otherworldly origins. He then quickly transfigured the homunculi into two thirds of a rudimentary igloo draped over little Harry which he firmed up and covered with conjured snow.

To all appearances Lana had built a hasty shelter and shielded her child with her own body to keep him warm. Why she risked the journey alone without escort or transportation was a mystery to even him. Harry line-of-sight apparated to a dense part of nearby woods and conjured a stiff gust of wind that sent flurries of snow to cover his own footsteps. Then he waited. Just as in the other dimensions he watched, Waynwood banner men on patrol happened upon the scene about an hour after dawn. They quickly checked mother and babe, distraught at the mother's death but then equally surprised and thankful to find the young toddler still alive.

A Disillusioned Harry Potter followed his alternate self back to Ironoaks and even into the Waynwood Keep to observe his attempted changeling setup. A young Lady Anya Waynwood had been fretting about her young cousin who should have arrived last evening. Having never seen her soon to be ward before, the subterfuge went off perfectly. None of the Waynwoods were aware of the original child's hair or eye color, and as Harry well knew, infants often had shifts in these two features as they became toddlers.

Confident that his alternate self was now set on his initial path, Harry slipped away to the room the Waynwood ward had occupied in all of the observed dimensions. He threw up a few charms on the single window and the door in preparation for his last act on the physical plane.

Harry had long since surpassed the need for a wand to utilize his magic. But little Harry would need one focus or another, perhaps for his entire life. The dimensional traveler had only brought with him three items, his nearly sentient Grimoire, his own Holly and Phoenix feather wand with runic enhancement, and alternate Tom Riddle's Yew and phoenix feather wand, minus that ghastly bone handle. He had now etched into both a regeneration runic array that would allow alternate Harry to repair them from most damage by channeling his mana into the rune. This setup would only really work on phoenix core wands since it heavily tapped into the eternally rebirthing nature of the highly magical creature.

He know activated a couple pre-set enchantments for the Grimoire to hold on to the two wands until it determined little alternate Harry was ready. Hopefully the two borrowed wands would be sufficient for him, if not his alternate self would be forced to learn all that Harry Potter-Black-Peverell had learned of wand or staff lore to create his own. If little Harry had some magical children then he would likely have to do so anyway.

The transplanted Potter should be safe from accidental magic. Taking a page from Dumbledore's playbook, Harry placed bindings on little alternate Harry's magical core. Unlike the hard and fast bindings the old manipulator had place on him, which he'd had to burst through with use, his enchantments were flexible and on a timer. All but one would be gone by the time alternate Harry was eleven and the last would dissipate on his thirteenth birthday. The little guy was going to be just as powerful, minus the boost he got from the Deathly Hallows, so he hoped his other self would have gotten control of magical accidents by then. If the Grimoire determined he was ready sooner it could show him how to remove the last one itself.

The Grimoire was linked by his magical signature to his core. It maintained itself by drawing miniscule fractions of his core's magic in a constant infinitesimal trickle. While that wasn't even noticeable to adult immortal Harry Potter, it would be a drag on little toddler Harry Hardyng. So in preparation, the Master of Death had designed and created a crystal mana reservoir and enchanted it to provide magic to sustain the incredible tome. By his calculations the crystal would power all of the Grimoire's functions until alternate Harry Potter was well into his fifties before the crystal needed to be recharged or connected to other magical beings to sustain it.

While he waited for the locals to arrive Potter added alternate Harry to the exclusive list of two who could access the knowledge within. For that matter they were the only two that could even see the book. There were subtle compulsion enchantments for someone with access to keep the book near and safe. The Grimoire itself had a drive to stay with it's wizard, with the amazing feature of being able to turn itself into a portkey to transport directly to any wizard that had foolishly left it behind. Or if another magical was attempting to access it despite it's invisibility. It was truly the perfect medium to teach Harry Potter, any Harry Potter, how to use magic.

And so, feeling at peace with his life, and his latest adventure, Harry Potter-Black-Peverell, former Master of Death, channeled every spec of magic in his body into the Grimoire's reservoir crystal. Even that little bit of magic even muggles have to keep the spark of life humming through their cells. In a brief flash of light brighter than any flashbang or a Lumos Maxima charm, the second Harry Potter in Westeros ceased to be, venturing to his next stage of...well you get the picture.

Down a floor, in the Waynwood's great hall an inconsolable Harry Pot...er...Hardyng cried for his missing parents while the women of Waynwood keep did their best to comfort him as they realized his poor mother hadn't even told the child his knightly father had died some months ago in Robert's Rebellion. Holding the toddler in her arms, Lady Anya Waynwood, whose last daughter was now a lively five years old, thought that maybe just one more would be okay to raise here in Ironoaks.

Author's End Notes:

First, this is currently self beta'ed so bear with the typos n grammar probelems. Tee hee. I'm still pretty novice at this writing thing so constructive criticism is welcome as are the interest of prospective beta's or advisors. As per usual, flamers and guests will likely be ignored. I'm not a huge fan of filling chapters with reviewer responses so unless something really needs to be addressed for everyone I'll probably just try to edit the chapter to fix any confusion. Also, pairings... I am not going to announce them in advance. Enjoy any relationships as they unfold. This is Westoros and rated MA so some explicit content should be expected. It will be clearly marked so it can be skipped over if such fiction isn't to your taste but you would still like to enjoy the rest of the story.

Second, I am going to define the weird seasons that occur in this world now. A "Summer" is the normal course of four seasons we are familiar with on planet Earth, with weather and growing patterns that are based on latitude and orientation of mountain ranges, rivers, and bodies of water. I'm going to use our Earth/western calendar and named months to more accurately depict the passage of time since cannon does not include it's own system. A "Winter" occurs when spring doesn't show up when it is supposed to. The winter season stretches out through the normal occurrence of spring which is then followed by a fall which stretches for the duration of summer and a normal fall. In regions that can do farming in fall, such as the Stormlands, the Reach, and Dorne a limited harvest can be accomplished.

The Westerlands and the Vale benefit from coastal/mountain range effects giving them climates and growing seasons similar to central and northern California respectively. The Riverlands and the Crownlands are subjected to harsh rainfall during a Winter and experience devastating flooding as well as erosion/mud slides during Winters. This means that they are as effectively barren as the North during a Winter, but during Summers they have huge farming yields similar to the fertile flood plains we are familiar with historically like the Nile or the Mississippi.

I'll go with astronomical interactions between planetary bodies causing this fluctuating seasonal pattern which leads to slight shifts in the planet's orbit and distance and/or orientation from the sun. There could be a millennial pattern to the shifts but poor long term record keeping prevents it from being discovered.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One: Growing up Heir

Growing up with the Waynwoods was a great childhood for young Harry. He had a doting mother figure in his cousin Lady Anya Waynwood, a widow who lived for the betterment of her seven children and growing brood of grand children. He had three pseudo-older brothers in his first cousins Morton, Donnel, and Wallace, which he looked up to and constantly pestered for attention and training. He also had a gaggle of four semi-sisters: Alys, Margaret, Anna, and Beth, who alternated between loving companions that doted on him, and annoying girls that tried to drag him into they and their friends' silly games.

With a Frey aunt, her adolescent daughter Cynthea Frey, the various Waynwood men-at-arms, a Maester, a Septon and a few Septa, servants, and various factors he had a whole village looking out for him. Not just because he was a growing happy boy that was a quick study with a friendly disposition, but because he was House Arryn's heir. Harry was being groomed as such, so at four he started learning his letters in earnest, at six he began training in arms, as well as lessons on the faith of the Seven with the middle-aged balding Septon Horus. He also received instruction in history, business, and geography with the elderly Maester Olaff. At eight he also took on the responsibilities of a page for Lady Waynwood. He liked that position because it mostly consisted of running errands for her or providing small services to his foster brothers. It also let him meet all the people of Ironoaks while delivering messages and spending more time with the knights and sworn swords of House Waynwood.

But at eleven years old, in the year 292 AC (After Conquest) a great many things changed for young Harry Hardyng. The one that would have the most impact on his long term prospects but the least on his current situation was the birth of Robert 'Robyn' Arryn, supplanting him as heir. As an eleven year old mostly focused on daydreams of becoming a renowned knight like his deceased father or foster brothers he didn't care overmuch. So what if he was only the spare now, it didn't really change anything in his daily life.

His focus was more on two much more important developments. The first was becoming Ser Morton Waynwood's squire. His eldest foster brother was a large sturdy man six feet in height with the physique of a professional soldier accustomed to fighting on horseback with the weight of full plate armor. He had brown hair and eyes and a well groomed beard that was a slightly darker color than his hair. Morton had refined features, labeled a noble bearing which to Harry meant his face wasn't fat and it was mostly symmetrical. His look was purportedly gained from his father.

The second foster brother Donnel was clean shaven, and with his mother's pale green eyes though a mirror image to his brother's size. Wallace, the youngest at twenty and four years was the spitting image of Morton though a few inches taller and wider and a mustache in place of a beard. His many sisters were taller than average with dark hair of varying shades and all had willowy builds, supposedly like Lady Anya when she was a young maid.

Harry had hoped to squire for Donnel, who was a bit more fun even though he took more after his mother Lady Anya in the face, but that job had been taken the previous year by a weedy young Frey named Sandor. Donnel, as well as Wallace, rarely stayed in Ironoaks anymore as they sought their fortune abroad as any good second and third born sons should. Between tourneys, service to the Arryns, and overseeing the Waynwood's interests abroad they brought a good income back to the keep that sheltered their growing families. Being a squire ended young Harry's days of scampering around Waynwood keep and Ironoaks township as a page, as well as his lessons on the Faith of the Seven. Something he was secretly happy about because he found them awfully boring and a bit...unrealistic in their expectations.

Instead he spent a great deal of time now training in combat as well as an even greater amount of time humbling himself doing all of the tedious and dirty jobs Ser Morton required. He also was gifted with the responsibility of a very young roan mare pony he named Athenor after his favorite star in the falcon constellation. She was to be his to raise and learn horsemanship as they both grew. Even as the spare heir he still had to set aside time with the Maester and now Lady Anya for continued lessons on governance and history. While the memorization could be tedious, Harry had gotten so used to seeking acclaim from his foster mother and instructors that he craved their respect quite a bit. So he strove to be successful even if he wasn't that excited with the subjects they trained him in.

But even all of those developments paled in comparison to a secret discovery Harold made in his own room. He returned after dinner one evening after his eleventh nameday to find a large book, bound in a strange green-toned scaly leather with a brilliant clear crystal affixed to the entire length of the spine. It bore no title, and looked nothing like the few books and scrolls the Maester used in his lessons. But someone had left it here for him and with the irresistible curiosity of youth he opened the tome to the first page. 'Hello Harold Hardyng, look more closely below' it read in bold lettering in the common tongue.

Below this odd sentence was a strange pattern that swirled and fractured drawing the eye ever inward. Harry was mesmerized by it's intricacy and was swept up in it's flourishes and designs. So involved that he barely notice the room around him change into a different setting. Gone were his stone walls and rug covered wooden floors, replaced by a smooth and tightly fitted flagstone covered with a carpet bearing a sigil he had never seen before, with a snake, badger, eagle, and lion each in different colors on a white shield. It was the carpet's lush texture on his legs that first alerted him to his changed environment.

He wanted to drop the book but found it was no longer there. He frantically rose and looked about the room. At one side was a roaring fire in the biggest fireplace he had ever seen. Bright overhead lights illuminated the room's impressive couches and finely crafted tables and chairs. It looked like the finest, and largest, Maester's study imaginable. Just as he was about to call out for help a man entered a door which quickly disappeared after the man had crossed its threshold.

He knew he should be concerned about the stranger approaching but there was something familiar in his look. It then hit him, this was what he might look like when he was older. They had the same eyes and hair. The same slim but muscular build. He thought the older...person was a bit on the short side though. The stranger also had a pretty dramatic lightning bolt scar on his forehead. He started to open his mouth for a second time but the stranger beat him to it.

"Who am I? What's going on? Oh the humanity! Where are we?" the stranger smiled as it took most of the words right out of his mouth. Harry just shrugged and nodded. "Well, first things first. I'm the book you just found. I'm called a Grimoire if you want to be fancy about it, and I contain all your future lessons in learning how to use Magic. Now I know what you're going to say. Magic's not real, this is all a dream," it rattled off in a fakey dumbed down voice.

"Well the fact that you are here, in this nicely furnished study suggests otherwise now doesn't it. Also, when you ... wake up...or re-emerge from this interactive training room you're imagining, the Wizard's wand that you'll find should also be a clue that this is really happening. There's nothing like a solid shaft of holly wood firing off sparks as it bonds to you that shows you that Magic is real and you are a Wizard." the man said with a nod and a smile.

"How am I a wizard? For that matter what is a wizard? And while we're talking why do you look like an older version of me?" Harry questioned.

"Well wizards are born first off, meaning it's inherited. Your magic comes from within and grows as you do. You'll find that most of the other magic users in this world, Warlocks, Maegi, Priests, etc. draw their powers from outside themselves through the elements, pacts with gods, or natural magical forces. I suppose you could learn how to do all that stuff they do, but why bother. I could teach you things your own body can accomplish for the rest of your life, and you still won't have learned everything I contain. Why go begging for outside power when you can do more yourself without all the strings attached?" he questioned conspiratorially.

"As for why I look sort of like you. Well that's a bit of a long story. One that's certainly far fetched, and I'd like you to think about whether you really want to know the answer. The short version is that there exist other worlds, and in some of them there are other you's. One of those other Harry's made me, and when he was through with me, he sent me to you to help you learn magic. The rest you might not believe, and even if you did, it'll change how you feel about some pretty important things. So if you're happy as things are, I'd wait until I was a bit older and focus on the new and exiting world of magic I'm going to start teaching you. Huzzah!" It shouted with a mocking glee to help diffuse any tension over it's cryptic explanation.

And thus begun his secret tutelage in the wizarding arts. He did not receive the structured magical education that this other Harry had received, whom he and the book began to refer to as Archmage Potter or just Potter. Instead they operated within the confines of the practical. Harry was a busy squire and so he and the book initially worked on methods to free up his time for magical instruction, self-study, and practice. That began with what the book called household charms. Neither he or the book thought he should skimp out on his combat drills or sleep, but both agreed that his unsupervised time maintaining Ser Morton's gear, horses, and clothing was the perfect opportunity to use some practical magic that would allow him to work on other magical training down the line.

It was not an easy time for Harry. He was initially quite terrible at focusing the cleaning, animation, repairing, and mending charms. He also struggled with the strange words and wand movements necessary to cast the spells. Especially when the Grimoire made the mistake of telling him that eventually he would lose the need for both movements and incantations for many of these spells. This lead to much whining and procrastinating in the learning of said movements and spell words on Harold's part. That is until the book was able to give him enough magical theory to explain why he needed the wand movements to train the flow of magic through his body and into the focus and the words were there to aide training his brain to visualize each component or affect of the spell. The strange words then were a precise representation of the spell itself, and as such were chosen quite exactingly to facilitate the learning process. The Grimoire found ultimate success in convincing his recalcitrant student by couching the theoretical terms in context of what Harold was already doing with his martial training.

With Harold's growing frustration at his poor spellwork and Ser Morton's disappointed rebukes, punishments, and his own drive to succeed he eventually become adequate then adroit with these time saving spells. He only ever messed up badly once after gaining mastery of these charms when at twelve he ruined one of Ser Morton's plate greaves by over polishing it until it grew thin enough to crack. In his defense he was focusing on a new spell he was learning, and his animated polishing cloth soaked up some particularly exuberant magic he was leaking in his excitement and went into overdrive. A week of slaving at the forge to replace the armor, followed by grueling heavy combat drills taught him the importance of prioritizing his focus and attention.

Harry fell into a routine on most days. He would retire to his room immediately after dinner with the family in the Keep's great hall and enter into the Grimoire's interactive training illusion. There they discussed his progress and Harry would question the Grimoire about what he could learn next. The book never would tell him what he should be learning so he would come with requests for things to learn and the book would let him now if it was possible, if he was strong enough to cast a spell, if he had to learn something else first, or if it was advisable for him to learn at this juncture. Once they agreed on the next lesson the Grimoire would instruct him using the Socratic method to help spur young Harry's analytical thinking. Then upon exiting the imagined study, Harry would find the book full of reading materials on the spell or magical theory they agreed upon.

The style of teaching used by the book had the added benefit of enhancing his learning in other areas, as he was now full of questions rather than blindly accepting whatever he had been told. Since Harold's dreams still revolved around finding glory and fortune in battle like every other red-blooded Westerosi male he pestered the Grimoire incessantly about combat spells. As a wizard just starting out he was forced to recognize that much of the offensive repertoire of jinxes, hexes, curses, area effect charms, conjuring, or transfiguration combinations were beyond him. The book also stressed the need for silent or quiet casting to keep young Harry's magic hidden.

But he did learn some basic defensive charms, including a couple he figured out how to cast with training shield in hand. This led him to the realization that for him to be the true warrior wizard of his dreams, Harry would need to learn how to utilize both sword and wand simultaneously. Since he could hide his wand behind a shield and casting at this stage required his dominant hand, Harry would have to relearn to use weapons in his non-dominant hand. The next three years of his squire training were a painful challenge as he had to redo all of the muscle memory he'd already acquired as well as any new exercises, weapons, and maneuvers with his left hand.

He wasn't daunted though by the beatings he received from his fellow squires and training men-at-arms and banner men. Nor the jeers of his foster brothers, sisters, and extended household. Harry learned he could be damn stubborn when it was called for and persevered. He told the Waynwood knights and Master of Arms that he wanted to switch hands for the benefit of being a surprising lefty against unfamiliar opponents. While at the time it was the excuse he and the book had created it turned out to be quite true. Once he became comfortable with shield and wand in his right hand and sword or mace in his left, Harry became quite formidable.

In his sixteenth year he participated in a tourney in Runestone sponsored by House Royce with a promise from Ser Morton that if he did well he was to be knighted. Harry did better than well, winning the melee. He didn't even use much magic to win. Only a weak kinetic shield charm immediately beneath his shield to lessen the brunt of incoming attacks. Even though this minor tournament was sparsely attended and the more skilled knights only entered the joust, Harry was still greatly pleased with his win. His opponents were all older and at least heavier than him, the bulk of his opponents being other squires, hedge-knights, and local sworn swords rather than full fledged knights. Upon returning to Ironoaks with his eight hundred gold dragon purse he found presents from both the Waynwoods and Lord Jon Arryn waiting for him in response to his knighting.

The Waynwoods had chipped in for a yearling grey-dappled destrier stallion, already fifteen hands high, as well as a very useful chain mail tunic (Hauberk) with boiled leather pauldrons, greaves, vambraces, gloves, steel Barbute helm, and boots for everyday armor he could wear over or under his clothing. The Hand of the King, or more likely his steward Ser Nestor Royce, had sent a full set of unmarked heavy steel platemail with great helm, and a set of padded armor he could use underneath either set. The Arryn's had also sent a painted shield with the red and white checkered Hardyng sigil in its upper left half, the Waynwood sigil in black and green in the lower left half with an added royal blue Arryn Falcon taking up the entire right side of the shield. Harry realized it was now to be his personal sigil. There was also a brand new long sword with thick leather scabbard and belt to complete the ensemble. The belt was nothing to scoff at with a steel and silver buckle as well as multiple loops one could affix pouches or sheaths for sword, mace, dagger, or a quiver to.

Having his own armor spurred on questions for the Grimoire about the mystical rune-covered bronze armor of Lord Yohn Royce. This led to the beginning of Harry's instruction into runic languages and the runic arrays they can be used for. It also started Harold on the groundwork for enchanting and magical rituals that he would hopefully be knowledgeable enough to attempt in the coming years. Young Harry Hardyng was all for making both sets of armor invincible and powerful, but the book had to caution him about how that would look.

The famous bronze armor was an heirloom but his sets had been forged recently at Moon Gate and if they suddenly turned up enhanced, that would lead to a lot of questions. Not to mention how draining on his reserves truly powerful runic arrays would be. So the eventual results were subtle runic patterns gracing the inside of his mail and plate sets. He had a hell of time designing runic arrays that would fit on each item of the armor sets. Especially the chain mail which he had the Ironoak smith add interior thin sheets of steel to the front and back torso so he'd have somewhere to etch his runes.

The armors were now lighter, climate controlled, and much tougher internally once he had charged the runes. But they would still scratch, chip, or dent when they received powerful blows. Only Harry wouldn't be damaged unless the blow was particularly powerful or made it into a chink or gap as well as besting any defensive charm work he employed. He also unwound his sword's grip to etch hidden runes into it's handle to make it manifest a variable weight. Heavier to train with and lighter if the fight was in earnest. He might do something similar to a war hammer when he grew big enough to wield that weapon.

His sword was another area where the Grimoire preached restraint in his alterations. Harry did not want to listen, but following the books instructions in practical arithmancy, he calculated that forged steel would grow brittle as the chaos of residual magic weakened the bonds between matter. The constant charging and discharging necessary in purely runic alterations created this unavoidable consequence. With arithmancy Harrold could now calculate how many arrays could be safely applied simultaneously to a given material's volume or surface area before the magic would weaken or even destroy the object. If Harry wanted to have his dream weapons he would need to learn enchanting, a style of magical application which would provide a stable and lasting magical alteration to enchanted materials.

His new found freedom as a knight provided many opportunities to grow as a wizard. While living with the Waynwoods he was expected to contribute. So he traveled the surrounding areas on patrol. He was also expected to hunt and provide meat for the Keep's larder. Harry oversaw some of their mercantile interest in the area and the port of Gulltown, and he was expected to win purses at tourneys to maintain his gear. He was also to oversee his inherited lands which Lady Anya had been doing for him before his knighting. All of these new responsibilities allowed him chances to venture out into the foot hills and woods surrounding Ironoak's farmland. Chances to be alone in remote areas to practice the grander magics he was now old enough to perform.

As a squire he had been forced to focus primarily in three areas of magic. First were the time saving charms already mentioned. Second were concealment charms, either to better allow him to sneak around so he could train, or spells that would hide any repercussions from his magical tutelage. So he learned to disillusion himself or take on the hue of a shadow. He could silence his footsteps and his breath, as well as mask his scent. He also learned the Obliviation charm, although he thought it should rightly be called the day dream jinx since it really just made the person think they'd imagined whatever magic they had seen while spacing out.

The Grimoire would also likely teach him the Confundus Curse soon, so he could more easily escape instances of being caught using spells. That spell planted a permanent idea into the person's mind unless dispelled. So Harold could for instance insert the idea that he was not sneaking around, or magic wasn't real and it would stick in the persons mind while otherwise leaving them completely unharmed. Of course if too much contradictory information were presented to the Confunded their brains would work around the inserted thought and make the curse moot. Still it would certainly beat constantly casting spells at his family and household.

The third area of magic he studied were the mental arts as they were safe to practice since no one would be able to see any effect. Primarily the book felt they would help his focus, attention to detail, and memorization. Using a form of internal magic, Harry began to construct organizational structures that with instinctive internal manipulations could be used to recall information or memories. These magical representations allowed him to file and save important information consciously. Without the full milieu of thoughts, emotions, memories, and sensations rampaging around his conscious mind it did allow him to focus his attention more fully. As well as split his focus more effectively.

Once his final binding seal lapsed at thirteen the book began training him how to read the emotions and thoughts that others unknowingly broadcast. This instruction also including reading facial expressions and body language to help him corroborate what he could garner with passive legilimency. The book stressed that it was only teaching him this branch of magic so he could better recognize if someone suspected he was a magical. They also put some effort into mental defenses, called occlumency, but it was sporadic since they didn't expect to encounter any telepaths or other mind reading magics in Westeros. The book didn't think he was ready at thirteen for active legilimency, the delving into other's minds to discover their secrets and view their memories. Harry didn't think that form of magic was very moral to use anyway.

HP-aSoIaF

Harry was extremely careful in hiding his spellwork. While he had been tempted to play pranks on his older foster sisters he refrained from such youthful hijinks. Yet no one is safe from Murphy's Law, and he couldn't forever hide his magic successfully either. It was actually infatuation that led to his being caught, and what saved him from widespread discovery. One of the Waynwoods maids was a very handsome blond woman who had apparently been quite the beauty in her youth. As well as quite...giving to handsome knights and soldiers. She'd come home from a tourney with an unspecified Lannister gift in the form of soon to be infant Kara Stone, born one year after Harry's assumed birthday.

Growing up in Waynwood keep there had been much speculation on whether or not the beautiful blond haired, blue eyed daughter would take after her promiscuous mother. Even as a child her big eyes, high cheek bones, full lips, and cute upturned nose set her apart from the other low born children running around Ironoaks. Many a young squire or man-at-arms had boasted he would be the first to garner her affections when she came of age.

But Kara was either more chaste than expected or perhaps more ambitious than to follow in her mother's promiscuous footsteps. She very clearly set her sights on Harold Hardyng at the age of twelve and would not waver from her target. At first Lady Anya tried to intervene in the early stages of a budding romance between the spare heir and low born bastard, but her Frey good sister convinced her to let Harry have his youthful indiscretion. And thereby learn what he needed to know of the relations between man and woman in a safe environment rather than a Gulltown brothel. Over the years Lady Anya and Ser Morton had multiple talks with Harry about not fathering any bastards with Kara as well as his duty to marry a high born lady when he got older.

Harry appreciated both Kara's attentions and her hobby of stalking his steps since it was an aid to his practicing his stealth and precautions against discovery. He also found her quite attractive and a good companion when he finally let her find him. She was the recipient of his first kiss on the evening of his fourteenth nameday, and a great many other firsts after that. So if ever there was someone in a position to see his magic at work it was her if it wasn't to be Ser Morton or Lady Anya.

Ser Harold was out in the foothills around Ironoaks hunting wolves that had been menacing a Waynwood tenant's grazing flock of sheep. It was his practice to use disillusionment, enhance his sense of smell, and then tag prey with tracking charms to "hunt". He would then alternate been stealth exercises to get point blank to stun and then kill his targets or alert them to his presence so he could work on aim and mobility. It was just as difficult to fire a spell as an arrow from horseback, if not more so. Once the stag, wolf, boar, or bear was downed with a combination of mobility damaging jinxes and immobilizing hexes he killed them with the appropriate spear or arrow. He was also always very careful to return with less arrows than he'd started with if he was bow hunting.

Once the reason for his trip was accomplished he ventured further out to work on curses, area effect charms, and conjuring/transfiguration combinations selected for him by the Grimoire. And so it was that on the day when Harold achieved his first ever fireball, a conjuration of highly compressed explosive gas hurled towards a target quickly followed by an Incendio hex, visible as a mana bolt of fiery red, which would catch the ball of gas on fire and cause it to explode, spreading fire and a pressure wave in every direction. Of course the timing was a bit tricky which is why he was eager to get out and work on this powerful combo.

The resulting explosion was what allowed a horny Kara, who'd been attempting to follow him for a possible romantic interlude to finally locate him. He quickly hit her with the Obliviation charm, but the surroundings were still destroyed and aflame. He couldn't let his foster family's domain be ravaged by a forest fire of his own creation so he launched his most powerful water conjuration at the burning wreckage. Once he saturated the area with water he turned back to the astonished Kara and hit her with another Obliviation charm. But after just one more look at churned up and soggy scenery she shook off the charm.

Marching towards him in a fury she shouted, "What the hell are you doing Harold Hardyng?! What is this mess and what sort of sorcery did you attempt on me?! This is...I...demon...Maiden protect me," she trailed off into tears, collapsing to the ground, her anger fading into fear and sadness at her discovery. 'Not good', thought Harry. He tried approaching her, but she scrambled along the ground to get away from him, calling for help and protection of the Seven.

He was considering using the Obliviation curse for the first time, which would completely remove her memory of this event, but the book had cautioned that not only could too much be taken but permanent damage might result from it's use if done improperly. He was supposed to learn to target it better after getting more experience with active legilimency. He couldn't use his girlfriend as a guinea pig.

He also wouldn't let her run away hysterical and destroy his life or hers with wild claims of magic in the forest. He quickly hit her with the Body Bind hex and approached her beautiful paralyzed form. His passive legilimency was very easily picking up her panic and heartbreak. 'I guess she really does care for me and not just my possible title. That's really going to make marrying a lady much more complicated.' He wished he and the Grimoire had had the freedom to explore potions because he could really use a calming draught for Kara right now. 'Oh well, we'll get that done next year.' he thought.

"Kara! Calm down please. If you can't get it together I'm going to have to remove your memories from today. I really care about you and don't want to do that. But I cannot have you running around telling tales about me practicing magic. Now, if you're willing to listen and not run away all hysterical I'll level with you. I won't hurt you, but I may have to make you forget, and then we probably won't be able to be a couple anymore. So just think to me if you willing to listen," he asked with a serious demeanor.

The talk about making her forget really hadn't helped as she was still a panicked mess from what he was picking up. Unfortunately every avenue to truly alter someone's emotions the Grimoire had mentioned involved a potion. Truthfully it wasn't a branch of magic Harold was all that interested in since he had no real desire to manipulate others much less mess with their thoughts or emotions. He decided he would have to do something, so he picked up her stiffened form and carried her away from the aftermath of his overt display of magic. Once they arrived at a clearing with no view of his practice field he placed her down and hugged her from behind.

They stayed like that for over thirty minutes before her panic ebbed and he got the impression she was bored and emotionally exhausted. He laid her back on the ground and faced her, crouching in front of her prone body. He quickly dispelled his Body Bind hex and replaced it with a Leg Lock jinx followed by a Silencing hex in case she wanted to scream. Judging by the her demonstratively opened mouth she was doing just that.

"You can stop that. I silenced you, so yelling won't do much. You have two options. First, I hit you with that same spell again and now that you are away from the devastation it'll probably work. You'll think you just had a weird daydream and we can go back to how things were." He paused gauging her apparent feelings towards this option.

"Second option. I remove the silencing spell and we talk about me being a wizard and being able to do amazing magic. Since I'm falling for you quite a bit, I'd prefer this option because I wouldn't have to hide so much of myself from you. I'll require that we stick close together for the near future so I can be sure you'll keep my secret. If you can do that you'll have my trust." he said to her slowly, willing her to understand the serious situation.

"Being honest with you, if you don't think you can stay quiet about me having magical powers, or you don't really want to have a relationship with me going forward, I'd say take the first option. I will break up with you soon, but your life won't be very effected. So shake your head in a no if you want to forget about all this, and nod a yes if you want to talk about it. I really want you to think hard about which avenue you want to take." Harry then sat down with his legs crossed and waited for her response, casually looking about clearing so he wouldn't stare at her tear streaked face. Though she was certainly still distraught he picked up an intense concentration that he hoped boded well for his adolescent love life.

Finally, after what felt like ages but was probably only a couple minutes, Kara nodded her choice. Harry quickly countered the silencing hex.

"I knew that falling for you would force me to make some concessions. I knew you'd eventually have to take a lady wife...although lately I been kind of turned on about the idea of sharing you with another gorgeous woman, of us sharing her..." she trailed off with a ferocious blush that was matched by Harry as well as his eyes glazing over with a small stupid grin. Kara had to snap her fingers in his face and slap his shoulder to bring him back from la-la land.

"What I was trying to say is I knew that I'd need to give up some things to have you. Such as marriage or legitimate children. And I'd already decided I was willing to do so. But this is something else. I need to know Harry, how can you do these things. It isn't from like...sacrificing children or pacts with demons. You know black magic." She was very cautious about asking this, but his patient demeanor and apparent affection for her made her bold enough to risk the wrath of a possible dark warlock.

"What?" he scoffed. "No! No, no, no. No way," he stated emphatically. "I was born this way. Like some people are born as good artists or excellent swordsman. I was born a wizard, as well all the rest of my traits you already know," he summarized with a smirk.

"I didn't even really know I was any different until I turned eleven and this magical book showed up. It proved to me that I was a wizard and started showing me little spells I could try out that might be useful. I was a bit skeptical at first, a bit wary it was trap to lead me to damnation. But the book, it's kind of alive I'd say, it doesn't ever tell me to do anything. And if I ask to learn about something potentially harmful or morally questionable it won't teach about it. It'll say something like not until I'm older or wiser. Or never. I hardly think something that conscientious about abusing power or doing bad things could be evil," he reasoned sagely.

"Are you sure? Cause maybe the price comes later, like it's hidden until you're too deep and can't back out," she reasoned.

"Well, the thing that really helps me trust a book that can think for itself is the author. Apparently there are...uh...other worlds out there. Like say there's a world where the Targaryens won Robert's Rebellion or where Valyria still exists. So um apparently in one of those other worlds that's a bit further along than ours, a Harold Hardyng wrote this magic book and then sent it to me. The Harry Hardyng that is in this world. It's kind of hard to imagine a different older me would be evil or want to sabotage himself...myself? Right?" Harry looked at her earnestly hoping she'd agree.

Kara looked at Harry intently trying to divine if what he'd just said was true or not. She eventually just shook her head and shrugged. Now smiling at him she asked, "Well what can you do, other than blow up the forest and then drench it in water?" she asked smiling.

"That's actually a new thing I'm just starting to work on. Growing up I mostly just used magic to do all my chores faster so I could learn the basics of magic or work on other spells. I know some spells to better protect me, some to make me extra stealthy, the memory stuff that I try really hard not to use, and I can get reads on people. Like if they're lying or feeling a really strong emotion. It's pretty useful, and I expect the more I learn the more useful and amazing it'll get." Harry was getting excited. This was his first ever opportunity to actually talk to a non-book person about his big secret.

As he explained what he'd learned, and what he felt he would probably learn about, Kara's expression changed from one of trepidation and concern to awe. Then..."So what strong emotion am I feeling right now, Ser Wizard?" she asked saucily.

Warning - Minor Lemon - Warning

Harry didn't bother responding. He knew that he wasn't either literally or figuratively out of the woods yet with Kara. This could be their last time together if she was just telling him what he wanted to hear. But he was a sixteen year old male with a gorgeous, possibly bi-sexual, blonde bombshell throwing herself at him. He quickly countered the leg locker jinx and then hit her with the contraception charm. When she asked what he had just done that got her even more aroused that she wasn't risking pregnancy by laying with him.

Kara pounced on Harry kissing him passionately with an arm around his neck and her other hand running through his wild black hair. As she kissed him from above he holstered his wand. Then his hands roamed down below her dress and shift, pushing both upwards until he could grab two handfuls of naked toned rear. He started to grind her core against his growing arousal.

Kara broke the kiss to finish the job of removing her clothes, leaving her just in white cotton socks and soft leather boots. Harry would never get tired of drinking in her lithe fifteen year old body. She had a natural bronzing to her skin that must have come from her Lannister father. She loved to dance and her legs were slim and toned. To Harry they were pleasant avenues for his eyes to follow to her womanhood. It was only sparsely covered with downy blond hairs with a slightly fuller patch just above it.

As his eyes honed in on her small barely glistening slit his hands trailed with caresses over her hips, up her sides to fondle and then grasp her growing breasts. They were barely a handful, but perky with dark red areola and nipples that stuck out like pearls for him to gently circle with his thumbs and lightly pinch between thumb and fore finger. To her immense pleasure, as her moans revealed as well as a renewed onslaught of open mouthed kisses.

When their grinding became a bit more intense, Harry bid her pause and he quickly removed his leather jerkin, thick woolen pants, and cotton shirt as well as his boots and woolen socks. He spread out his clothes on the sparse grass and leaves of the clearing and laid his nearly naked lover on them. They were recent initiates of full intimacy since his knighting so their love making was quick and without extended foreplay.

Kara eagerly spread her legs and wrapped her arms around Harry's neck as he approached. With one hand he rubbed his cock against her slightly open channel to gather a little lubrication then slowly entered her as she pulled him tightly to her to renew their kissing. Whatever gods or genes blessed Kara with her beauty had also gifted her with a sensitive womanhood that was quick to moisten. This was especially beneficial to the neophyte lovers since Harry knew little better than to start thrusting away to his cock's rhythm as soon as he'd bottomed out. But for Kara that was more than enough to get her off.

Kara held Harry close to ensure his pelvis rubbed her clit and the penetration felt incredible for both of them. He reached his orgasm in under ten minutes, and she found hers twice in that time. They stayed enmeshed for a while, kissing and holding each other, before separating to get dressed again.

Warning - End Lemon - Warning

She joined him as he returned to the two wolves he already killed and hung from a tall tree to keep them safe from bears. Harry was extremely happy, both in post coital bliss, but also from the very intense feelings of...well he hoped that emotion was love that Kara felt for him. For some reason, whether a subconscious barrier he had placed after a lecture from his foster mother, or perhaps the deepening of their connection, Harry was getting much better readings from Kara now. If this new sensation was love, then his first fireball would certainly be the second biggest discovery he'd made that day.

HP-aSoIaF

Harold Hardyng spent a little over a year after earning his knighthood in the Vale of Arryn carrying out duties for House Waynwood. Steward Nester Royce, an older man starting to bald and gain a gut but still big enough to show his past as doughty knight, brought him to the Eyrie and Moon Gate a couple times in that year to continue his education as potential heir as well as introduce him to a wider circle of Vale nobility. The dual structures were perhaps the strangest and yet most secure fortifications in the Seven Kingdoms. Moon Gate was actually a relatively small town bordered on the west by it's giant namesake, the Moon Gate, the final stop of the only road connecting the Vale to the rest of the seven kingdoms.

That road linking the Vale and the Kingsroad in the Riverlands traveled East into a narrowing in the first valley of Mountains of the Moon. The road then encounters the free standing wall known as the Bloody Gate, a fortification always manned by the forces of House Arryn. Beyond that the road travels through a rocky path that takes at least a day's journey on horseback, to a similarly narrow ravine that ends with the towering Moon Gate. The town lies behind this free standing wall as well as two other gates that lead to passes containing the roads heading north and south into the Vale itself.

Moon Gate keep isn't even really a traditional keep, but a fortification carved directly into the North face of the steep cliffs the town is sandwiched between. The eastern edge of Moon Gate township ends in a wagon wide trail that steeply rises in elevation nearly a thousand feet before one reaches the Eyrie. What was once a rocky isolated foothill now boasts a circling road that rises around it to the top, an additional four hundred feet in elevation. The top of the hill was hollowed out, it edges shored up and topped with fortifications while the materials taken to give the walls height were rebuilt into the keep known as the Eyrie. Within the man made depression lies a small village worth of barracks, workshops, and homes to service the keep, while the inner Fort rises an additional eight stories. But due to the Arryns living in King's Landing, the Eyrie was at this time uninhabited, sporting only a skeleton crew of sworn swords and servants to upkeep it's facilities.

Instead, Harold met with Nestor Royce in the excavated cliff-face fort, Moon Gate keep, every couple of months for a few days of instruction and shadowing the Arryn's steward. He was also treated to several feasts and introduced to any visiting lords, knights, or merchants that had traveled to Moon Gate for some business with the Vale's capitol or it's nominal leader, Steward Royce.

Harry was forced to fend off a bevy of noble maidens and widowed ladies at these "impromptu" gatherings. He knew he would eventually be forced to choose, but he wanted Kara's input, and they both wanted to explore each other and the wider world a bit before settling down. His marriage was also a matter to be decided upon by Lord Jon Arryn since it could have great impact on the future of the Vale.

Harry also had hopes of earning or winning himself a keep or holding beyond the small and deteriorated Hardyng House with its attendant acreage bordering Ironoaks. His father had only been gifted enough land to maintain four peasant families, and their labors in farming and shepherding earned him less than a hundred silver stags annually in rent. As well, the home had been barely constructed before his father passed, and no one had lived in it since his birth. Without the Waynwoods support in his childhood or the small salary of fifty gold dragons annually they paid him since his knighthood, he would be on the edge of poverty after his expenses of maintaining him, his horses, and his gear. For an individual of his skills and abilities it was not a situation he would countenance for long.

His trips to the Moon Gate did seem to endear him to the Vale's Lords and Ladies as a viable successor to Lord Jon Arryn. Especially in contrast to the rumors that were trickling back to the Vale from King's Landing of Robert Arryn being a sickly boy that was possibly dim-witted. Little Robyn's poor health and his own unlikely role as alternate heir started a curiosity in Harry that would plague his sleepless nights in the coming months.

He frankly wondered if the Arryns were cursed but could find no magical residue in the Eyrie, Moon Gate, or Waynwood Keep that the Grimoire urged him to look for. If they were not cursed then they clearly had a subtle and deadly enemy that could turn his or her sights on him eventually. Eleven heirs and three spouses dead before their time was too much of a coincidence to ignore, even in the deadly and treacherous Seven Kingdoms. Harry and the Grimoire suspected a poisoner since there were also an inordinate amount of purported illnesses, stillbirths, and barren spouses.

So he did his duty with the Waynwoods and for the Steward. He was even able to travel to a tourney at Harrenhal where he received a humbling defeat in his first competitive joust against Ser Balon Swann, as well as a runner up finish in the melee to gain a consolation purse of a cool five hundred gold dragons. His subtle use of charms and jinxes, his enhanced gear, and his south paw fighting style served him well in a field of warriors who'd never faced him before. He also was very strategic in his movements, avoiding many of the more imposing knights, letting them take themselves out of competition while he whittled away at the melee's lesser warriors. He would have won, but couldn't decide how to handle Thoros of Myr's flaming blade without exposing his magic. His indecision allowed the wily brawler to kick his legs out from under him as he blocked a powerful fiery swing with his shield. He yielded rather than risk greater injury or exposure of his plate mail's added features.

More importantly during this year of knighthood, he honed his battle magics, both the grandiose and the subtle. He also started on transfiguration magic. Kara was ever eager to provide his training sessions with a cover story. Their romance was one of the worst kept secrets in Ironoaks. They actually did end up rendezvousing over half the time they claimed to be. Once Harry learned that Archmage Potter had been able to shift into a Zephyr Falcon at will, an extremely similar bread of bird to the Vale Falcon he would barely rest until he achieved the status of an animagus. Partly it was for the symbolism, but mostly he had a great desire to fly.

The Grimoire was not surprised by Harry's frequent requests for magics to get him in the air. Apparently it was a shared obsession of Archmage Potter's. The book was unwilling to provide him with the runic arrays and enchantments required to manufacture a flying device such as a broom, carpet, or boat. The book felt he didn't need one, being seen on one would be disastrous, and he didn't have the required components even if the book did agree on teaching him the process.

On his seventeenth nameday the book finally made the recompense for not teaching him to fly, outside of his animagus form, with the two key charms for Wizard mobility: Apparation and Port Keys. The first would shove him through a magically conjured...tube thing. Taking him from point A to point B, him and anything or anybody he could drag with him. Port Keys did the same with an object, but they could be delayed on a timer and transport anyone or thing that could hold onto the temporarily enchanted object. The Grimoire related that in the larger magical societies Archmage Potter had visited, they would lay a grid across the land with runes and enchantments. This preparation allowed Wizards to teleport anywhere within the grid if they had the proper coordinates.

Westeros and the Vale had nothing similar so the Grimoire provided him with two methods to utilize these powerful charms. First involved line of sight. If the destination could be seen it could be targeted. The second was for him to augment a specific runic array with an addition of his own design to mark his personal transportation keys. He would also have to include a raw runic letter to designate that key from others he might create.

Using this method was dangerous. One of the features of the array was to push anything over the array to the side to clear space for arrival. But if the object or person was heavy enough or moved back into position, severe injury leading to imminent death or destruction would occur for both parties. Mistakenly creating identical keys would tear him to pieces if he tried to use them. As well, an enemy could discover his key and move it to a dangerous place like underwater, in a rocky crevice, or the middle of their prison. As a blind teleporter he would have to suffer whatever fate waited for him on the other end. The book recommended he place them on inaccessible roof tops and only travel while disillusioned.

Harry placed one on the highest roof of Waynwood Keep which usually had a cover of fine grit, leaves, or snow. He also placed a key on the rooftops of a remote home in a village outside the fortifications for Moon Gate. Another he placed on the roof of the Eyrie's barracks. He hoped he would never have to explain how exactly he circumvented the keep's gate and defenses. Harry did this on his trip to meet with the steward to gain approval for his upcoming journey. With the gold he saved, Harry and the Book desired for him to get away from the Vale so he could learn potioneering, active legilimency, and healing charms in anonymity. Anywhere in the Seven Kingdoms would be difficult, either because he could be recognized or due to the Maester's stranglehold on herb lore and the healing arts.

So the Free Cities were to be his training ground. Ostensibly he was going to pay for further tutelage in warfare from one of the sellsword companies that recruit out of Braavos. Rumor had it that Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne had actually signed on to a company. Neither Harry nor Steward Royce wanted him beholden to any mercenary contracts. While the Seven Kingdoms were at peace, warrior companies from the Free cities were constantly being hired throughout Essos for minor or even major conflicts like the constantly brewing war between Lys, Myr, and Tyrosh over the Disputed Lands.

For a small fee some Westerosi lords in the past had followed sellsword companies as observers to learn what they could from their tactics, training, and logistics. Obviously not everything would be applicable to the feudal militaries of the Seven Kingdoms but quite a bit would. The sellsword companies saw it as some easy coin and advertisement for their services down the line. Doing this would make Harry more valuable to the Vale Lords. It would also get him out into Essos where he could explore the foreign apothecaries and herb merchants to learn along with the Grimoire what potions might be possible for Harry to brew beyond the pedestrian few he could make from local ingredients found in Ironoaks or Gulltown. Learning what poisons could be purchased abroad might also help him uncover the Arryn's hidden enemy down the line as well as protect himself from similar attacks.

As a potential future Lord of the Vale he would require an escort to hopefully prevent him becoming a hostage or an inadvertent casualty. The Waynwoods offered three men-at-arms including the probable future Master of Arms Edric Hillis. Harry would pay their way in return for the Waynwoods monitoring the Hardyng lands and stabling his two horses after he left Gulltown. The Arryns would also have a say in his education and protection so he was forced to journey to the Moon Gate to gain permission and aid from the steward.

Luckily Nestor Royce saw the potential benefit of his request. He also saw a somewhat sheltered and naive young man eager to see the world and have adventures. When Harry yet again refused to entertain any marriage proposals until he "broadened his horizons" Steward Royce reluctantly agreed to sign off on his trip. He provided six men-at-arms including two Valemen who had traveled extensively in the Free Cities on missions for Lord Arryn. While the knighted Hardyng would have command it was understood he better well listen to his escort.

Harry was also encouraged to take up the page Willum Royce as his squire when his party returns to Gulltown after his trip. Lord Yohn Royce of Runestone had been petitioning the Vale's Steward and his kinsman to see that his grandson squires for a worthy knight. Harry suspected this move was merely to get a pesky relative off Nestor Royce's back. Ser Hardyng figured it would certainly help his long term prospects to earn both Royces goodwill and readily agreed. A knight should have squire.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Heir Returns

Eleven months later, April 298 AC (After Conquest)

Harry's trip across the Narrow Sea had been a smashing success. While he had missed Kara Stone terribly, he had achieved all his goals, both stated and secret. On his first day in Braavos he found a recruiter for the Windblown, a sizable mercenary company even now fighting down in the Disputed Lands. The recruiter had never heard of an observer contract but thought it an interesting way to earn his group and himself some gold so after thirty minutes of haggling Harry hired a scribe and a contract between the Windblown and Ser Harold Hardyng was signed. He would be traveling with the newest recruits down the eastern coast of the Narrow Sea in a weeks time.

The two week long ship ride over to Braavos had been illuminating magically to the young wizard because he and the book had settled upon a number of new spells that would be required on this journey. The first was active legilimency or the Legilimens hex. The spell allowed the caster to thrust their magic along with a probe from their mind into the brain of another. Once inside further branches of the mind arts could be employed, though most of those revolved around overcoming another's Occlumeny defenses.

Harry needed this spell because the Free Cities all spoke various dialects of High Valyrian rather than the Westerosi common tongue. He would get nowhere with his secret potions research if he couldn't even speak to the apothecaries. So the book showed him a method to use legilimency to steal someone's linguistic knowledge rather than take or copy their knowledge or memories. It required Harry to learn a little bit of the anatomy of the brain since this information was housed in a completely different area than what he would usually be searching through.

That first night in Braavos Harry snuck out of his room and found a slew of sleazy bravos and criminals roaming the night to use in perfecting the art. He failed to find the right target in his first two attempts and had to break off or risk being attacked while motionless looking into another's mind. These failures did allow him to test out his Obliviation and Confundus curses. The man who provided him with the High Valyrian language was a loudmouth braggart who had knocked a child unconscious and was in the midst of raping the mother in an alleyway when Harry relieved him of his native tongue quickly followed by knocking him unconscious to rescue the woman. In the aftermath his head felt like it was going to burst, and he knew he would be throwing up soon, so he staggered back to his rented room and passed out.

The second necessary magical skill Harry began learning on the ship over to Braavos was warding. He learned very simple muggle repelling, silencing, and notice-me-not wards that would be essential for he and the book to set up potions laboratories along their journey. The key aspects in warding were to use runes or ward stones, containing more detailed runic arrays, to define an area of effect to ward something. Where the warding arts become difficult and complex were in defining more complex concepts to ward or exceptions to what is warded. The matter of providing power to wards also required higher level magics and rituals that Harry was not yet prepared for. But simple temporary wards, like barring animals, or diverting non-magical humans were well within his grasp to both cast and power.

So, Harry started in Braavos with a routine of scouting out likely purveyors of ingredients during the day and treating his guard detail to brothels for dinner and the nights entertainment. He would always appear to go off with a whore, but would quickly stun her and Apparate out into the evening to purchase ingredients and pre-brewed elixirs.

The book showed him many spells and processes to determine the true nature of substances since names of plants and animal products could change between each region. Always in the last night at any location Harry would venture out again to stock up on ingredients found to be useful as well as secure seeds or grafts to take home to the Vale. With his wards up, he and the Grimoire could brew and experiment to their hearts content, as long as they didn't blow up any cauldrons. That fortunately only occurred once in a brothel in Pentos.

By the time Harry returned to Gulltown eleven months after leaving he was now five inches taller and thirty pounds heavier, thanks to a late adolescent growth spurt. He had also established what he felt like was a repertoire of highly useful potions, though according to the book it was a paltry list compared to what was available to Archmage Potter. Harry now had in his potions case, elixirs to provide six hours of alertness without a crash, a potion to double his physical strength for half an hour, a calming draught, as well as one that would send a drinker into a towering rage. There was also a potion to flame someone's lust towards a target, and a potion that would place it's drinker into an unnatural sleep for a day.

His foray into the healing arts was less successful. The book did show him some first aid charms to staunch and close a wound or set a broken bone, as well as a diagnostic charm to tell him what was wrong with a patient. He even learned a pretty useful charm to check for poisons or toxins in one's food or drink although it was a bit too flashy for open use. But their alchemical study provided only one successful potion for medical purposes. A healing curative that would increase one's healing rate a hundred fold. What Harry dubbed the regeneration potion would not fix a mortal wound or solve excessive blood loss, but if it was an injury that could potentially heal on it's own, it would and with great speed. It had the added benefit of making sure bones, tendons, and ligaments set properly due to something called a genetic blueprint according to the Grimoire.

The book was quite disappointed only a single magical healing potion was found. They did discover what the book called an anti-biotic paste of mundane origins so there was some hope they'd eventually improve upon it. It was useful none the less in keeping infections from wounds as they healed naturally. The two recipes were a poor substitute for the hundreds of healing brews the book knew, but which all called for magical plant or animal derived ingredients that did not exist in this world at this time.

He also addressed his concerns over poisons. He now had an antidote which would halt the method of action of all the poisons that he tested on his trip. Harry also had a poison purgative that would force out the offending toxin for later identification or evidence. Harry had taken to wearing a pouch at his belt containing the tandem antidotes as well as a few other useful potions sealed in glass vials surrounding by hardened clay. The stasis charm the book had taught him to ensure their clippings made the journey home would also keep the potions viable for half a year. He barely convinced the book he should have a magical poison that would be unknown to all Maesters and apothecaries alike. He reasoned he'd rather have it and not need it than the reverse. Harry really didn't have any intention to use poison, as he was a warrior and doing so would hurt his honor as a knight. No, his thoughts in this regard tended toward offering Kara some means to defend herself in the future.

So now he was back in Waynwood Keep with his new squire Willum Royce in tow, relating to his foster family his adventures in Essos. His foster brothers Ser Morton and Ser Wallace were especially interested in what he learned of war amongst the sellswords. He agreed to meet with them on the morrow to create notes on the lessons he learned observing not only the Windblown but many other companies as well. It was at that welcome home feast that he first learned of the death of Lord Jon Arryn and the sudden arrival of Lysa Arryn at the Bloody Gate with the Lord Presumptive Robert. Ser Harold Hardyng was once again the Heir to the Vale of Arryn.

The young Lord Paramount and his mother had apparently sequestered themselves in the Eyrie without calling in the Vale Lords to swear fealty. There was much speculation on who would be the regent and whether or not that involved a marriage to Lysa Arryn nee Tully. For now it seemed the mother and son were content to allow Steward Royce to continue running the Vale as he had been for the last seventeen years.

Ser Donnel Waynwood had sent word from the Bloody Gate that two weeks ago Catelyn Stark nee Tully had shown up with a ragged band and Tyrion Lannister in custody. Apparently they were set upon by raiders from the mountain clans. A second raven only a week ago related that Lysa was holding the Imp prisoner until he confessed to the crimes of attempted murder of Bran Stark and the poisoning of Lord Jon Arryn.

"Wait, what?" Harry asked, flabbergasted.

"Yes, it seems she's holding the Imp in the sky cells as we speak," said Lady Anya

"Is she trying to start a war between the Lannisters and the Vale?" asked Harry in exasperation.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean son, and I'd mind your tone for our Liege Lady," his foster mother chastised.

"Sorry mother," he frowned. "It's just what if the Imp dies before he confesses or is innocent. I can't see the architect of the Rains of Castemere doing nothing about the death of his heir." Harry paused in thought.

"Lady Waynwood, would it be alright if my foster brothers Ser Morton and Wallace accompany me to the Moon Gate to return the men-at-arms Steward Royce provided for my escort. It seems like some very momentous actions are taking place at the Eyrie and us Waynwoods should have our say."

Lady Anya took her time responding and Ser Morton leaned over to whisper in her ear. She nodded her head and responded, "I think you are correct. I had hoped having Donnel nearby at the Bloody Gate would keep us informed but I hadn't really thought much past a Lannister poisoning Lord Jon. We may need to attempt to influence events for a good outcome for House Waynwood." She smiled at her youngest son, for in her heart that's what Harry had become.

HP & aSoIaF

Despite his concerns over the political intrigue in the Eyrie, Harry had a joyous reunion with Kara. It had been a bit hostile at first due to rumors of Harry's nearly nightly trips to brothels throughout Essos. But Harry told Kara about his subterfuge to gain time away from his escort. She still wasn't entirely convinced so Harry did admit to one indiscretion. In Tyrosh, he encountered a pair of nineteen year old identical twins. They had raven black hair, big black eyes, to go with pale white unblemished skin. And most importantly no qualms over incest or lesbian love. After being coaxed into further relating the details of the encounter, the now highly aroused Kara agreed that she also would not have been able to pass up such temptation.

This revelation unfortunately did not have the desired effect of cooling Kara's concern of him being unfaithful to her by laying with foreign whores. That is until Harry went through a supposed Magical Oath on his life and his magic to convince her. The Grimoire had instructed him long ago that only enchanted parchment signed in Wizard's blood could hold him to an oath. But he didn't feel too bad about playing upon Kara's ignorance because he really hadn't strayed except for those kinky twins in Tyrosh.

That confession though turned Harry's mind to wondering about Kara's faithfulness. While he had no doubts that she loved him still, he knew she was an ambitious girl with a high libido who went after what she wanted. While they had made claims and shared their dreams of her being mistress Hardyng having nightly threesomes with his equally beautiful future dame Hardying, eleven months was a long time for Kara Stone of all people to go without sex. Harry become quiet angry and jealous when he sensed guilt from Kara while he asked her if she had been with anyone else while he was away. As the entire room full of objects began to levitate and vibrate in his first show of accidental magic in years, the blond maiden hurriedly explained her sexual exploration while he was away.

She knew she wouldn't want any other man in her bed, despite all of the offers she received, many of which Kara guessed were organized by Lady Waynwood to naturally separate the two before marriage did the job for her. Yet Kara was a teenager in love with her childhood sweetheart and the embodiment of all of her dreams. She was also a true Lannister and craved the power to rule her domain, whatever that domain would eventually become. As such she could not imagine anyone more able to meet that need than Westeros's only wizard.

Instead, knowing her own sexual curiosity and seeing it as a duty to her future ...lover?...husband? Kara knew that she must grow skilled in having sex with women in preparation for their dreams. As the terrible emotional magic that had pervaded the room began to recede Kara explained her forays into finding a lesbian lover while Harry was abroad.

***** Warning Lemon Start ******

She started with innocent flirtations with the younger women and maidens around the keep. Kara then took to using lingering glances while bathing in the communal bathes of the keep to test out potential Sapphic devotees. Fortunately she found a taker in Ironoaks' youngest Septa before anyone caught onto her intentions. Jocelyn was one and twenty with smallish breasts and had the pale white alabaster skin only seen in those that had spent most of their lives indoors. She had brown, short cropped hair that was usually hidden beneath of habit as well as warm doe-like hazel eyes.

As Kara began to describe her lover, Harry began to divest himself of his feast clothes and sat nearer to Kara on his large, rune softened bed. Kara finished describing Joceyln's breasts and moved onto her limbs and feet, and Harry was already erect. As Kara described her first kiss in the nearly empty Sept one early morning, Harry remembered to charge up the muggle repelling and sound dampening wards that he had applied to his room right before the feast for this eventuality.

Harry returned to the bed as Kara described divesting the Septa of her robes and groping her bare tits and ass. The blue eyed maiden decided to show Harry exactly what she had done with her own body and quickly lost her dress and shift. As she first caressed then grabbed her own buttocks while turned away from Harry, the black-haired wizard took in her nude body. Kara was still a golden bronze from head to toe, but if possible it seems she had taken in more sun as her hair was a slightly lighter blond, now midway between straw and white. Harold wasn't the only one to have gone through a growth spurt, whereas he was now clearly a man if a younger one, Kara had also blossomed further.

She was still quite lithe with very toned legs, stomach, and a heart shaped ass that begged to be grabbed. But she was now a few inches taller, at four inches above five feet, and her hips had widened some. As Kara turned to face Harry so he could see her rub her breasts and grasp her nipples along with her story, the young knight noticed some other pleasant changes in his love. Her breasts had swelled to the point he would require his full hand to encircle one, though they remained high with the nipple slightly pointed up. Kara had also for some reason shaved her pubic area as well as her legs and arms.

Kara quickly explained why as her story about Jocelyn continued with them first fingering each other to orgasm, then later, in the Hardyng House no less, licking each other's pussies while gently manipulated their clits or fingering even more. Kara had shown Harry how pretty her clean shaven lips could be and how wet she was getting from reliving her past female conquest with her love. Harry couldn't hold back from stroking himself as Kara began to describe the different positions they had licked each other in. As she began to wrap up she started to tell her man about how licking and twirling her tongue around Jocelyn's pussy and even her asshole had made Kara long for licking her lord's cock and exploring other ways to please him with her tongue and mouth.

With that said she gently removed Harry hands from his member and replaced them with her own smaller fingers near the base and cupping his balls. Kara then proceeded to lick up and down what was left of his cock above her hand. She would pause occasionally to swirl her tongue around the head or kiss the tip. She all of sudden stopped though and Harry sense her amused curiosity. She looked around the room, settling on her discarded dress which she languidly crawled to, returning with a wooden handled duster of all things.

She quickly held it beside his erect length before he could protest and then gasped before happily laughing, "It is bigger! Ohhh, my Ser Wizard you are so accommodating to your poor servant girl to provide her with such an instrument of pleasure. And to make it bigger for her just as her poor cunny had tightened up to virginal status. Mmmmm...I cannot wait until you've reshaped me to be your tight little sheath for such an impressive sword..." she would likely have continued to gush in giddy anticipation if Harry had not been further spurred on by her realization.

With a quick kiss on the lips he quieted her rambling then gently led her mouth back to his aching member. Happy to obliged, Kara place a few more licks before surprising Harry be taking his member into her mouth all the way to her hand that had resumed its stroking of the base of his now ten inch cock. He could feel her suck and swirl her tongue around the bottom and sides of the shaft before pulling her succulent lips along his skin to the bulbous head. Pulling back further made a popping sound that had them both chuckle before Kara resumed her ministrations.

A few minutes into this oral stimulation, Harry couldn't hold back his bucking hips and Kara looked up at him with question in her eyes as she had gagged as his tip hit the back of her throat.

"Kara, can I try something with you. It's something those twins did that's pretty similar to what we're doing now, but it'll definitely make me cum very quickly?"

"You know me Harry, I'm always willing to try new things. In fact, there is something very special I want to try if you can lick me like Jocelyn did. If you're very good you can do to me something Jocelyn had me do to her that is very naughty. Now what should I do with my mouth?"

"I want you to stroke my dick with your mouth as if it were a vagina. Go as deep as you can and your hand can make up the difference. You'll bob your head and I'll hold your beautiful hair and guide the rhythm. Okay?" he looked at her, concerned he was asking too much. But Kara dove right back onto his cock until his tip cause her to gag again.

Harry gripped her hair into a pony tail and guided her into a quick pace. As he got closer he began to buck and push her a little further down his cock. But rather than push away, Kara just removed her hand from his cock and placed both palms on his thighs, essentially surrendering to him. Harry heard her breathing through her nose as his cock squeltched into her throat but was too far gone to stop. After only a few moments of thrusting did he reach the point of no return. He released Kara and bellowed that he was cumming but rather than pulling back she just set his tip in her mouth and swirled her tongue around as he continued to ejaculate. Kara was taking noticeable gulps of his salty seed until the spurting stopped and she made one last popping sound as her lips left his cock head.

Harry laid back on his bed, as Kara rose and rinsed her mouth from his wash basin. But she never did spit it out. When Harry asked why, she said that it really turned her on when Jocelyn would drink her juices and she wanted to do the same thing for him. She also wanted to take in his essence but wasn't totally sure why. Harry told her he would ask the Grimoire if there were any enhancing charms they could use.

Kara snuggled up to him and they rested for a few moments before the naked lovers began kissing again and let their hands roam. Harry took the opportunity to take in her new larger breasts and lavished them with kisses and sucking. Eventual his fingers traveled to her shaved entranced and began to tease her folds. But Kara wasn't letting him stop there, not after what she had done with her mouth. So with Harry's randy consent she knelt above him and aligned her cunt with his mouth.

Harry was not shy, and began long licks as well as a few other techniques he'd seen the twins do to each other. The response was just as he hoped, with Kara grasping onto the headboard and subtly grinding her pussy into his tongue. She began to moan loudly, testing the silencing ward, and grabbed Harry's right hand. She pulled it around to her butt and leaned forward, maneuvering two fingers into her pussy where the young knight began to add thrusting digits to his oral skills. Unbeknownst to Harry, Kara began licking two fingers before manipulating her own rosebud. She very gently eased them into her anus and tried matching the thrusting Harry's fingers were doing slightly lower.

Kara still found it quite simple to reach orgasm so it wasn't long before the double fingering plus a licking tongue had her over the edge. She very happily noticed that Harry lapped away at her juices as her ejaculation released even more dampness. As Harry licked away, she stopped fingering her ass and began stroking his cock in preparation for her next surprising addition to their sex life.

When she was satisfied he was hard enough, she stood up on shaky legs and motioned for Harry to move off the bed. She then laid down with her golden locks splayed around the pillow and spread her legs wide. Harry had already gotten back on the bed and between the two outstretched stems, was quickly inside her pussy thrusting away. It felt amazing to both. His sizable cock would always win out over fingers and tongues even if they were feminine. And for him, her pussy was the most blessed place his cock could ever be. There was no comparison to the kinky twins as they were seasoned whores and had the looseness of professionals.

While Harry was more than happy to see this happy reunion continue on to completion, Kara had other ideas. Jocelyn may have started the anal play, but Kara certainly enjoyed it just as much. In the future she would request some magical accompaniment that could hopefully deal with dirty realities of this type of sex, but tonight she wanted to give Harry her last place untouched by man.

So Kara pushed back against his chest and removed his cock fully from her vagina. She then realigned her hips and thrust her legs further back to reveal her tiny little rosebud to her lover. Harry was in a bit of shock that Kara might be thinking of having him in her ass, so he made no moves as she rubbed his tip in the secretions that had trailed down from her cunt and then circled his cock tip around her anus.

She stroked him as she tried to get her asshole to loosen up enough for his tip to enter but splayed out as she was she couldn't get the thrust. Harry shook himself from his stupor and removed her hand before place himself at her entrance. With him pushing and her focusing on relaxing her asshole they finally got the tip in. Kara cried out in a hiss, as his girth that had so impressed her before was now literally biting her in the ass.

Harry was all for stopping at her painfully cry, but Kara new that at first it would burn, just like when Jocelyn added the second and third fingers but then it would start to feel oh so wonderful. So over the course of a few minutes, with plenty of winces from Kara and "Oh my god you're so tight", from Harry, his massive member was finally lodged all the way in her ass. But the burning hadn't gone away yet. So she pulled his head down and they made out with him throbbing away with his pulse in her asshole.

Finally she relaxed around his cock and Kara assured him that she wanted him to bang her ass like a drum. She followed this by reaching out and grasping her spread ankles and pulling herself wider open. Harry started thrusting slowly in the strangely slippery yet extremely warm and tight asshole as Kara began to moan loudly in pleasure. The green-eyed wizard felt so amazing that he instinctually picked up the pace of his thrusting. It felt amazing, especially the way her two rings struggled to hold him in as he pulled out. Kara, knowing with some pride that her ass would get her man off in record time, released her ankles and began frantically frigging her clit as her legs slid up onto Harry's shoulders with her delectably cute toes curling up in ecstasy.

Harry had a massive orgasm soon after, emptying a load of impressive size up his lover's butt, and slumping over her still lodge in her backside. Kara's frenzied rubbing shortly bore results and she had a great orgasm that had Harry starting to stiffen up again in her ass as it spasmed around him. But Kara needed a break and so quickly pulled him out, gasping at the empty feeling of not having that massive cock in her, filling her up. They both did a quick wash with soap and cloths and then put on sleep wear and climbed back into a recently charmed dry bed.

***** Warning Lemon End *****

They were both very happy to be back together even if there was the minor disappointment of Kara relating her break up with Septa Jocelyn since the young lesbian nun had absolutely no interest in men and wouldn't continue to date Kara if she got back together with her boyfriend. They both fell asleep shortly after with blissful smiles on their faces as they were finally back together at long last.

HP & aSoIaF

The next day while the Arryn men-at-arms enjoyed the hospitality of Waynwood Keep and Willum was put through his paces by the Master of Arms, Harry first spent time with his foster-brothers and the Waynwood Maester relating all he could remember of his trip. He had learned much about supplying and moving a military force. He also observed many new battle plans, encampment fortifications, discipline styles, and even a few underhanded tactics that may someday be useful. He spent the afternoon with his tenant commoners arranging for them to set aside some land to begin his potions garden. He lowered the rents to recompense them for the project with promises of profit sharing if he was able to sell any of the finished product. Though that was years down the line as he expected the next few harvests to be small and used to restock his personal supply of potions.

The following day he set out with all his possessions, his squire, Kara as his personal servant to many winks from his foster brothers, his Arryn escort as well as twenty Waynwood men-at-arms accompanying Ser Morton and Ser Wallace. He had taken everything because it was likely he would be directed to marry a Vale Lady or maiden during his time at the Eyrie. If not, he would be expected to travel abroad seeking potential alliances beyond the Vale. It might be a long time before he would return to Ironoaks.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Unfounded Accusations

Harry and his party were greeted warmly by the steward when they arrived at Moon Gate Keep. Ser Morton sent his brother on up to the Eyrie immediately so they would have eyes on the Vale's relocated court while Harry and he poked around the Arryn's winter fortress for some answers. Ser Nestor was very grateful for Harry already taking on Willum Royce as his squire, which made Harry feel a little guilty since he hadn't spent much time teaching the young boy anything yet. He assuaged his feelings of dereliction with the fact he had been moving almost constantly since disembarking in Gull Town. Once he was settled somewhere he could instruct the boy in earnest.

Steward Royce grilled Harry just as thoroughly as his fosters brothers about his adventures in Essos and was happy that he learned so much. The steward was proud that the Hardyng heir continued training in combat with his escort throughout the trip. Harry then turned the discussion they were having in Nestor's study around to learn about recent events. Ser Donnel's missives were right on target it seemed. The facts were all as they'd been told. Harry then told Nestor one of his ulterior motives for his trip abroad.

"You see Steward Royce, I find my family's unfortunate run of bad luck, tragedies, and infertility to be suspect. It dawned on me that House Arryn may have a secret enemy that is patiently whittling away at our family with very subtle use of toxins, illness, and poison. So one of the avenues of study I pursued abroad was to learn all I could about poisons, their names, identifying characteristics, and how they present. And then I return to find accusations of Lord Jon being poisoned." Harry paused to gauge how Steward Royce would take his confession.

"It seems your suspicions of an enemy may have some truth to them now. I take it that you are bringing this to my attention for a reason," he questioned.

"Yes, I would like your permission to question everyone that returned from Kings Landing. Perhaps even question the Imp. I don't think I have to spell out how dangerous our current situation is. Even if the Imp is guilty, I don't see Tywin Lannister forgiving us his execution. If the Vale is potentially to go to war over recent events we should at least make sure we have the right man. All I've heard about are accusations and imprisonment awaiting a confession. But no investigation."

"Well, that's not quite correct. I did talk with the Arryn men-at-arms that returned with Lady Arryn but never learned of any plot. These crimes are a new tune for Lysa. As far as I knew our elderly Lord Jon passed away from an illness due to his advanced age." he paused thinking. "I believe you are right, we should re-evaluate and gather more evidence against Tyrion. It will be useful in petitioning the crown for interference if Lord Lannister attempts to seek vengeance. What will you need to do this?" he asked.

"Just a room to use and a list of all the men-at-arms and servants that returned to the Vale with the new Lord Arryn. I don't think it likely to find any definitive proof, but we might ferret out co-conspirators who could be coerced to give testimony. Perhaps someone saw something that didn't mean anything at the time but now could be relevant. Unfortunately the crime occurred in King's Landing so we may need to journey there to follow leads. But let's see what we can learn now, yes?"

"There were only soldiers and Maester Colemon that returned to the Vale. Apparently Lysa fired all of the staff serving the Hand for failing her Lord and then abandoned them in King's Landing to rush back to the Vale with all haste. Though she did command that the two hundred men-at-arms who returned to remain in the Eyrie and Moon Gate to protect the young Lord."

"That's odd. Why leave loyal servants behind? If she thought they were involved she should have arrested and interrogated them?"

"I think you should be aware Ser Harold, that Lady Arryn has been...behaving erratically since her return. I think Lord Jon's death might have unhinged her a bit. She refuses most of her duties, sequesters herself with her son, and has even been seen breast feeding him in public. I've been continuing in my role as steward to allow her to deal with her grief. Please be careful in your investigation. I don't want her riled up anymore than she already is," he cautioned.

"Of course steward. I and Ser Morton will be the very soul of discretion." And with that Nestor Royce had his aide show them to an empty workroom while he assembled the Arryn's escort from King's Landing.

Harry asked each one similar questions individually so he could get the most out of his passive legilimency. None of the guards had noticed anything suspicious and were now quite distressed to think they'd failed to protect Lord Jon from an assassin. None of them could think of any of the Hand's staff as particularly furtive or acting strangely as they were all born in the Vale and had been serving in the Hand's Tower for at least five years, some of them since Lord Jon became the Hand.

When he asked about suspicious guests or any guests at all in the days leading up to Lord Arryn's illness he drew a blank. Jon Arryn tended to orchestrate his business so meetings could be conducted in the Red Keep and occur in proximity to the council chambers. Jon wished the Tower of the Hand to be his refuge in King's Landing. The only people with regular access beyond the staff, guards, or the Hand's family were female guests of Lady Lysa which visited infrequently as well as Master of Coin Paetyr Baelish who as a Valeman, a small council member, and a life long friend of Lysa Arryn nee Tully had plenty of reasons to visit the Tower of the Hand.

But again in the week prior to his becoming ill there were no visitors to the Arryns. The only thing of note that a couple guardsmen mentioned was that Lord Jon seemed to have taken on a new project for the King. At least that's what they assumed since it involved interviews with the King's fourteen bastards that lived in King's Landing. It was odd to some because some of the kids were quite young and wouldn't have much to say. One guardsmen did mention that the Arryn's long time Maester Colemon was sent back to the Vale to allow Grand Maester Pycelle to take over the Hand's care a few days after Jon had become sick.

The only read he got of any value was from more than a few men-at-arms that did not like how close Lysa Arryn was to the Whoremonger Littlefinger. They felt it was unbefitting of her station to be friends with a purveyor of flesh however close they'd been as children. From an older sergeant named Gardan he had gotten the suspicion of adultery. The Arryn sergeant had purposefully become a chaperone for the two whenever Baelish would visit since they seemed much closer than just friends in his mind.

By the end of the day Ser Morton had grown quite frustrated with their lack of progress, so Harry was happy to call it a day and join the steward's family for dinner. Early the next morning Harry, Ser Morton, and their party made the taxing climb up to the Eyrie with it's requisite mule rides, icy steps on the shaded side, and winch baskets for their gear. The one highlight for the trip was the incredible view of the Vale. It struck him now as much as the first time he made this trek how beautiful this valley kingdom was, with fertile fields surrounded at every turn by thickly wooded foot hills and massive snow tipped mountains. Both he and Kara also liked the look of the young guide named Mya Stone. They had already discussed Kara's growing excitement to live out some of her fantasies and hoped Mya might be one to join them. But in reading and talking to her Harry unfortunately determined she was deeply smitten with squire Mychel Redfort.

Even in the light of day the treacherous assent was grueling but they achieved the summit an hour after midday. For a keep that could house five hundred and with it's lord in residence it was strangely empty. The stables seemed only a quarter full and no smith or other craftsmen were at work in the small workshops surrounding the spherical courtyard. The Eyrie keep itself was as impressive as ever, a thick tower thrusting up into the heavens. The first six floors were shuttered, with heavy stone or metal coverings used in both war and to keep out the elements.

Falcon themed gargoyles adorned each levels' corners and the very top could barely be seen as large windows and colonnades that gave the top floors a picturesque and commanding three hundred and sixty degree view of the Vale. Supposedly there were just as many floors excavated below the towering fort, as the skilled masons responsible for the cliffside Moon Gate keep turned their art into tunneling storage granaries, water reservoirs, and the famous sky cells below the impressive building. Harry's party was greeted by Ser Wallace Waynwood, Ser Vardis Egen, and Ser Brynden "Blackfish" Tully. Ser Egen took it upon himself to enquire about their purpose for visiting since Ser Wallace had deferred the reason to his older brother.

Harry let Ser Morton answer as the senior member of their party. The eldest Waynwood said that they were merely escorting their young foster brother to Eyrie as he'd just returned from an extended absence from the Vale. As Lord Robert Arryn's last remaining kinsman they and their mother Lady Anya thought he should make himself available to the family during this trying time. The Blackfish scowled at the obvious dodge, but Ser Vardis, a man known for having more honor and brawn than brains, thought it was a reasonable excuse to visit.

He called for a servant who showed the Waynwoods to rooms near Ser Wallace. The Waynwood men-at-arms were led to the Eyrie barracks with the instruction to keep their ears open for any rumors. Once he was alone with his foster brothers, Wallace let them know what he had so far discovered. Apparently only Ser Vardis and thirty Arryn men-at-arms were present in the Eyrie as well as a skeleton crew of servants along with Septon Daril, Maester Coleman, a mercenary named Lothor Brune who had been hired by Tyrion and was sticking with him on the promise of more Lannister gold. There were also the two additional Tullys: Brynden and Catelyn Stark, as well as a minstrel named Marillion.

The Blackfish was only recently arrived to as he put it, "to keep his sisters from doing anything else foolish." But he appeared to not be having much success. Catelyn accused Tyrion of pushing Bran Stark out of a tower at Winterfell then sending an assassin to finish him off with a Valyrian Steel knife. Catelyn Stark had both the scars and knife to prove the assassination attempt occurred. It was Lysa who was really pushing for Tyrion to confess to the poisoning of Jon Arryn. Which was why the Imp was currently cooling his heels in a sky cell until he confessed.

Ser Wallace hadn't gotten either Tully sister or brother to speak with him, but he had talked to the Maester who clearly had something to say, but wouldn't speak with the youngest Waynwood brother. The bard had only joined up with Catelyn Stark's party to avoid being killed by mountain clans, but did relate that during the fighting prior to reaching the Bloody Gate, Tyrion at one point saved Lady Catelyn's life. He was now trying to worm his way into patronage since Lysa had very little to keep her sickly son entertained with here in the Eyrie.

Ser Morton volunteered to speak with Brynden since they had known each other for many years and served together in the Greyjoy Rebellion. Ser Wallace said he would make another attempt to speak with Lady Catelyn about how she arrived at Tyrion as the suspect. He was also to meet with the Eyrie's head maid Alleria to arrange a visit for Harry with Lysa and Robyn. After the brothers left Harry pulled Willum and Kara aside and let them know he was going to sneak down to interrogate Tyrion. They were shocked he would do such a thing, but he got them both to promise to cover for him and make it seem like he was still in his room.

At the first vacant alcove he encountered Harry quickly cast his stealth charms and crept down to the sky cells. There was only one jailor on duty, who was quite large if deformed. Harry stunned him then positioned his body as if he'd fallen asleep. He then removed his charms and approached Tyrion's cell, the only one of six occupied. The Lannister dwarf was huddled in a corner shivering under a thin blanket. Harry contemplated making improvements to the cell so the prisoner wouldn't freeze in the crisp early spring nights or fall to his death but couldn't see how to do that without exposing himself. A Lannister would be one of the last people he would want to know about his powers. Well a Lannister besides Kara anyway.

"Hello Tyrion Lannister. Are the accommodations to your liking?" he smirked.

"Well you aren't Mord come to beat me, so perhaps things are improving. So are you here just to heckle, or has my father finally paid one of the Valemen to stop this madness?" Tyrion stood in the corner with his blanket draped about him like a cloak and looked through the barred rectangular opening in his cell's door. "What is your name?"

"Ser Harold Hardyng, the Arryn Heir. Just returned from a training trip across the Narrow Sea. I've found quite the vexing situation here in the Eyrie to greet me. Apparently my Great Uncle has been murdered and my liege Lady says it was done by you as well as a Stark claim you tried to murder a little boy when you passed through Winterfell. What is your response to such damning charges?" Harry schooled his features to give away none of his own skepticism about the claims.

"I'm astonished anyone could think such a small man capable of such lofty feats. Surely someone of larger stature could be found to take the blame." he said with false grandiosity and sarcasm.

"More japes. How is that strategy working out for you so far? A cold cell with a nice view of the Vale. If I were you I'd take the situation a little more seriously. Your life is very much at stake." He admonished. "Now...where were you in the second week of the new year when Lord Arryn first became ill?"

"Finally someone asks a relevant question. While I was quite drunk for much of the weeks surrounding the new year, and the month after, I can say for certain that I was not in King's Landing at all. I was touring the fine brothels of High Garden when one of my father's knights tracked me down and required my presence for a funeral for the Hand of the King. We didn't even make it to King's Landing for the actual event. So you see I couldn't have been sneaking about the capitol murdering high level government officials." he snarked.

"Yet you are a Lannister with access to larges amounts of gold, as evidenced by your ability to pursue wine and women with such relish. Gold that could have been spent from Westerland or the Reach to have an effect in King's Landing," Harry riposted.

"That is true of a great many lords and merchants, all with greater means to do such a thing and more of a motive. For you see I have no motive. Jon Arryns' death didn't benefit me or my family in anyway. My father did not resume his role as Hand of the King. My sister especially was most distressed that she had to trek all the way to the North and back. What you should be asking is who directed Catelyn Stark in my direction in the first place." As he spoke the Imp had finally set aside his thin blanket and approached his cell door. He bore bruises on his face and arms of varying shades suggesting rough treatment for quite some time. Harry's passive legilimency had already alerted him to the Imp's innocence of poisoning the King's Hand. But it was quite clear the Imp knew more of the situation than he'd yet shared.

"Hmmm...now about the Stark boy. A very strange crime. Who travels all the way to Winterfell to throw a boy out of a tower. Then travels to the wall, all the while sending an assassin with a very distinctive valyrian steel blade to finish him off when the fall ends up not killing the boy. Obviously he saw or overheard some intrigue he shouldn't have. Before we get to your counter accusations, please account for your whereabouts at the time of the initial attempt to silence the Stark child." Harry stared hard at Tyrion causing the dwarf to drop his head and miss the slight twinkling in the wizard's eye denoting his use of passive legilimency.

"I was in Wintertown sampling a very lovely red. Full bodied with hints of citrus and musk. I believe her name was Roz. She or her madam, or even the Stark ward Theon Greyjoy can attest to me being nowhere near the crime."

"So a war hostage and a woman whose livelihood is to lie for money, not terribly reliable witnesses." Harry smiled in jest.

"Come off it. I can see on your face you don't think I hurt the boy. For goodness sakes I even provided the Starks with the schematics for a special saddle so the young man could ride horses one day. This is another crime I have no motive for. I have no secrets. My family hates me, I am a dwarf, I love being drunk and whoring. Everyone knows these things so I have nothing to protect." Tyrion's desperation was starting to enter his voice.

"Ahh, but you are also known as cunning and witty. A man with a sharp mind would perhaps make sure all thought him a drunken fool and therefore suspected of nothing," Harry counted reflexively, enjoying this interrogation more than he thought he would. Tyrion looked at him in exasperation, not deigning to respond.

"Fine, I will ask you the question you wish to answer. How did Catelyn Stark determine you were involved at all? And where did that extremely valuable blade come from?" the young wizard questioned, serious now about getting some real answers.

"The Master of Coins and chief whoremonger himself. At least that is what Lady Stark told me during our exciting journey to the Bloody Gate. The dagger had once been Lord Baelish's, and he did lose it betting on Ser Jaime at Joffrey's nameday tourney as he told her."

"But! But he knew very well that I lost a large amount of gold on the exact same bet when Ser Loras Tyrell unhorsed my brother Jaime. I never bet against my brother, he's the only member of my immediate family I can stand. Littlefinger lost the dagger to the King who bet on Ser Loras to piss off Cersei. From there who knows how many hands it passed through before it arrived in the catspaw's." Tyrion was starting to get animated as he orated his defense.

"But none of them were mine. So if you want to know what is really going on you should learn why Littlefinger pointed Catelyn Stark at me. And why she did not bring this matter to her husband, the King's Hand, but rather arrested me herself and dragged me to the Vale. You spoke of whores as people whose profession is to lie, so how much more their whoremaster should you suspect. And yet both those Tully women hang on his every word, leading to our current situation," he lamented, walking slowly back to were he had been sleeping and sat down with a huff.

"Lord Baelish...If one were speculating, in a hypothetical manner you see. And that person, who is clearly neither of us, were to suggest that Lysa Arryn nee Tully were romantically involved with Littlefinger. Would you, a hypothetical Tyrion, have any knowledge of such an affair?" he mused.

"You've wrapped that question up in such tricky language I'm starting to wonder if you are a Master of Law and not just a Knight. But I digress. I have heard a small appendage boast, whilst in his cups, of taking not one but two Tully virginities. And a royal sister firmly believes that such activities occur quite frequently. If such a betrayal of the marriage bed were true it would certainly benefit others in the line of succession to cast doubts onto the parentage of a very surprising son born to a very old Lord. So an Imp might have heard, where he around to hear such things. Which he was not!" The taunting sarcasm and subtle mirth briefly returned to Tyrion before he looked around his cell frowning.

With Harry reading Tyrion he knew every word spoken was true. Since he now needed to interview Lysa and Catelyn as well as probably Littlefinger, Grand Maester Pycelle, and the Queen and King if he could manage it, he started to head back to his lodgings. Clearly he needed to get Tyrion free of the Vale as soon as possible before his ruthless father set any retaliations into motion. But Tyrion was closer to the situation than anyone else he knew, as well as a cunning if debauched man. So he thought he could at least set his mind to thinking on the Arryn's enemy if not learn something new.

"Tyrion. I give you my word I'll try to get Lysa to free you as soon as possible. It may be a challenge as I don't know her, and she is the de facto regent of the Vale. But I will figure a way out of this. While you are stuck here though, I'd like you to consider who really did poison Jon Arryn and throw Bran Stark out a window." He paused considering how to phrase his question, how much information to reveal.

"What I'd like you to ruminate on is that Ser Harry Hardyng, eighteen namedays to his name, is once again the heir to House Arryn and the Vale. Eleven other heirs have gone before me, as well as many barren wives and stillbirths until Robert. All in the thirty or so years since my great uncle became Lord Paramount. When one considers that this might not be the first poisoning but just the latest, does that point you towards any culprits you wouldn't have considered before? Thank you for you answers and let us hope that we can get you out before your family does anything...precipitous."

As he turned to head back out of sight so he could reapply his stealth charms, Tyrion responded quietly sighing, "I'm quite sure it's already far too late for that." The ominous statement seemed to linger in the gusty stone hewn prison.

HP-aSoIaF

The next few days were a bit boring for the self-appointed investigators. Ser Wallace had spoken to Catelyn Stark but learned no new information. His brother Ser Morton was equally as unlucky with the Blackfish, who knew little and was starting to think he didn't know his nieces that well either since he couldn't explain their behavior, especially Lysa's. Ser Wallace's attempt at getting Harry in to see Lysa and Robyn was a disaster as she irrationally accused him of wanting to hurt her boy to steal his title.

That night the Waynwood party learned they were to be confined to quarters unless they would leave the Eyrie. Harry did sneak out at night anyway to meet with Maester Colemon. He learned the exact nature of symptoms and both agreed the poison to probably be the rare and expensive Tears of Lys. Harry was surprised to learn that with frequent leeching Maester Colemon believed Jon Arryn's health was improving before he was rudely sent back to the Vale in favor of the Grand Maester's less effective care.

Harry then broached a more sensitive subject for Lord Jon's longtime healer. He asked for his professional opinion on his Lord's fertility and ability to sire children at his advanced age. The loyal Maester began to grow upset that such disparaging things were being said about Lord Jon, but in Harry's reading of the man he learned the Maester thought him hale but was unsure of his fertility do to long years with multiple women and no child. There were deeper ideas and memories that would not be revealed without active legilimency, but Harry had no wish to mentally assault someone who served his great uncle well. As the Maester's protestations of Harry's aspersions on both Jon and Robyn grew louder and noticing the scholar did not have a Valyrian steel link denoting a knowledge of magic he acted.

Harry drew his wand from his self-made custom leather holster and quickly turned his appearance into that of a shadow. He silenced himself and then with the familiarity of a frequently used spell hit the Maester with a silent Obliviation charm. The Maester looked around his room in confusion and, seeing no one, got under his covers to try going back to sleep after such an unsettling dream. When his breathing had slowed, Harry crept out of Colemon's apartments and returned to his own.

The next three days he spent wracking his brain on ways to free Tyrion or remove Lysa from power that she clearly didn't have the capacity to wield. At Kara's suggestion he began instructing Willum in his duties and gauging his reaction to magic being real. He started with showing Willum his runic arrays on his plate and chain mail armor. The young man was well aware that certain patterns could have an effect thanks to his Grandfather's famous bronze armor, so Harry focused on that. He told Willum that he thought highly of having enchanted armor like Yohn Royce but didn't want to be made fun of so he put it on the inside where no one else could see.

Willum was intensely curious and tried finding similar patterns to what his grandfather's armor contained. He wanted to know if Harry had succeeded. Rather than the truth he told his young squire that he thought he might have done something right since he felt his armor was lighter than it should be. But he couldn't be sure, he might have just gotten stronger and not noticed.

Kara who had been listening in chided him when they were alone for dodging the issue. She assured him there was no way his squire wouldn't eventually become suspicious, at the least of his sneaking around. She challenged him to win the boy's loyalty or else check his magic book for ways to make secrets stay that way. That very evening the Grimoire taught him the Fidelius charm which could hide a secret quite well. It could apparently also be used to hide things or places but Harry didn't have the power or skill yet to attempt those warding derivations of the charm. After some particularly vigorous and satisfying love making he brought up the spell with Kara who immediately offered to be the secret keeper for what he was planning to hide, that Harold Hardyng could do Magic. Since only he and Kara knew at this point the book felt the spell wouldn't be beyond him.

The Grimoire also cautioned him that he lacked the power or artifacts to sustain the spell if too many people were challenged with his secret. Such as openly displaying magic at a tourney or in battle. If he ever wished to use all of that battle magic he had learned he would need something else besides the Fidelius charm to protect his identity. It also worried him that Kara might become a target because of her role but didn't think that very likely. She was not worried at all, and his reads of her showed her incredible happiness at an opportunity to bind them closer together since she doubted she would ever receive a bond of marriage.

They performed the charm that very night. It was a very strange experience to suddenly be sapped of almost all of his mana yet not know why or what was missing. Kara couldn't understand why he was looking or acting so strangely. She started to panic that the spell had gone horribly wrong until it dawned on her that even Harry was effected by his spell. She quickly told him he was a wizard and he could do magic and everything he knew and learned came rushing back. Harold was starting to regret ever casting the spell since now Kara could snatch away his knowledge of magic with the right incantation. Though she didn't know that, and Harry vowed to never tell her if he could help it. His magic was now an intrinsic part of him, and its loss was terrifying.

He slept till midday when Willum finally got past Kara to wake him with great excitement. Apparently the Imp was going to confess that evening once all of the knights below in Moon Gate could come up to the Eyrie to witness. Harry was less excited. In fact he was extremely worried for he still had no plan to stop Lysa from executing Tyrion and ensuring a war between the Vale and the Westerland. With the current alliances between great houses such a war could potentially drag all of Westeros into the conflict.

He had vague plans about seizing control but knew that no Valeman would support him. It would merely look like a grab for power unless he could prove Robyn was illegitimate. A suspicion which he had not been able to confirm since Lysa and Robert wouldn't allow him to come near them. The previous day he had already begun to think through infiltrating the Lord's apartments to gather information before the Fidelius charm took up all of his attention. Harry had already discussed with his foster brothers the Seven Kingdom's law on confessions, trials, and arrests.

They also talked about Lysa's legitimacy as Lady regent but there was no consensus on proper procedure since these matters where usually spelled out in a will. Since none had been produced, Lysa's regency was assumed as a default. There was really no basis to argue, especially since his own foster mother ruled the Waynwoods due to the same situation. Harry hoped Tyrion had a good plan involving this confession gambit.

HP - aSoIaF

It was a disaster. Harry couldn't understand what Tyrion thought would be the result. He had come up from the cells and began to confess every minor indiscretion of his life starting from his childhood. Secretly Harry thought the speech was hilarious, especially all of the disdain towards his ruthless father and pranks on his arrogant sister. But neither Catelyn or Lysa were amused. As Lysa ordered him returned to his cell, Tyrion demanded a trial and relief from his beatings. Lysa agreed to let Robyn judge him. Knowing the little boy merely wanted to see someone thrown out the moon door to their death, Tyrion called for a Trial by Combat.

Harry looked around the room at the assembled knights and nobles that had been in the vicinity of Moon Gate keep when Lysa finally invited witnesses up to the Eyrie. Most looked disgusted with Tyrion, either his many vices, his Lannister blood, or his dwarven features. Only a few looked disquieted with what was about to take place. Harry couldn't figure out how they imagined this would result in a benefit to them or the Vale but obviously most could or else weren't willing to risk Lysa's ire. He looked to his foster brothers for help. They exchanged a significant glance then Ser Morton pointed directly at Harry, indicating to Harry that it should be he to step into the spotlight and take charge.

After mouthing a sarcastic 'Thanks' at his eldest foster brother he stepped out from the crowd in the wide open space around Tyrion who was desperately searching the room for someone to take up his cause. Lysa had rejected his ploy to wait for his brother Jaime to arrive to prove his innocence in trail by combat. His sellsword Bronn had made a move to enter as well but decided to slink backwards once Harry stepped forward.

"I am sorry Lady Regent but I must protest this trial by combat. Tyrion Lannister requested a trail and by Seven Kingdoms law you must provide him one. Robert Arryn cannot sit in judgment. In part because he and you are the accusers. But more importantly because he is a six year old boy. A panel of three impartial Lordly judges must be chosen and both you and Tyrion must provide a list of witnesses to support your positions. You both can also select advocates to plead your case to the judges. We cannot forget our laws just so a young boy can see a man plummet to his death. Especially when doing so might mean war between the Vale and the Westerlands," he hinted ominously.

"And who are you to tell me what I can and can't do in my family's hall. Guards, knights, arrest this fool who speaks of laws and excuses while my Lord husband's murderer continues living." Some men-at-arms and Ser Egen began to surround Harry but the rest of the court, as if startled from their instinctive loyalty to House Arryn or desire themselves to see the Imp take a fall, rose voice in protest or moved to protect Harry from unjust arrest.

"I am Harold Hardyng, Lady Arryn. Your son's heir until he grows old enough to provide his own. It is very important that I am allowed to speak and put a stop to this madness," he shouted over the growing cacophony of shouts and armored movement.

"We must have laws or else anyone could make any outrageous claim against another and have them put to death." He then turned to Ser Egen who was now hesitating to apprehend him at the growing outrage from the court. He pointed and declaimed, "Ser Vardis Egen is a Giant!" When the crowd halted in confusion at his strange proclamation he smiled and continued, "A giant Child of the Forrest sent to the Eyrie to turn us from the Seven to worship great weirwoods with faces. He must be put to death immediately without trial lest his magic words ensorcel us."

He received a few smiles and chuckles from his outrageous claim, while Lysa fumed, and the shrewder in the audience understood what he was doing. Harry then pointed to his foster brother Ser Wallace. "And Ser Wallace Waynwood is clearly a Snark masquerading as a man so he can lull us into complacency. I've suspected it for years but with accusations floating left and right I have been emboldened. Clearly we must put him to death as well." Harry got even more laughs after this fanciful jest, the loudest from Ser Morton. But Harry had an idea leap to forefront of his mind that had been marinating over the last three days of confinement. With everyone laughing he felt it was time to take a risk and perhaps seize his destiny.

"As well, Clearly!" he paused, the room hanging on his next words in anticipation of another pronouncement they could laugh at. "Clearly, Robert is the product of adulterous liaison between Lysa Arryn nee Tully and Paetyr Baelish of the Fingers. As such he is a bastard and you are not the Lady Regent so you should be put to death for treachery." Harry smiled as he spoke, but there was now a hardness to his eyes and he focused intensely on Lady Lysa to read her.

He almost needn't have bothered. The blood drained from her face with fear and guilt clearly written. Most of the court was laughing but his brothers looked at him with suspicion, and most damning of all was Catelyn Stark's reaction. She watched her sister closely before gasping, "My gods, it cannot be..." before covering her mouth in shock.

"The only treason here is you besmirching your rightful Lord's name Ser nobody. You are trying to steal Robyn's place, and we will not stand for it! Guards grab this traitor to House Arryn. We cannot tolerate his presence any longer. It is the moon door for him and my husband's killer the Imp." Lysa had recovered from her shock and reacted with anger. But all could see she was unhinged, with a glint of madness in her eye. Harry briefly imagined leaping out the moon door and then flying back in as a falcon, but shook the flight of fancy from his mind as it would be folly to reveal his powers at such a crucial juncture.

It was gradually donning on the assembled witnesses that Harry's last statement had struck a nerve. Most thought it a jest in extremely poor taste. There were growing grumbles and scuffling broke out as some guards again moved to seize Harry while others blocked them. Ser Brynden Tully, reacting to Catelyn and Lysa's near confirmation of suspicion marched briskly to Lysa and pulled her down from the Lord's seat. His growled command to, "Shut your mouth before you do anymore harm," added to growing consensus that perhaps Harry's outlandish accusation wasn't so outlandish.

Before any actual fights could break out or swords be drawn Harry called out, "Steward Royce! You must maintain order. Nothing should be done in this chaos. You have led the Vale for seventeen years, please do so now so we can untangle this worsening knot." The half of the court that wasn't engaged in ordering their men-at-arms about or already jostling around Harry and Tyrion, turned to the well respected Nestor Royce. He nodded and steeled himself. He then called for all the witnesses to vacate the room and seek out the head maid for accommodation. He then commanded to various knights and Arryn men-at-arms to ensure his commands were carried out. He set a guard on the Lord's chambers first before he was surrounded by members of the most prominent Vale Houses.

There were protests at being pushed aside, but the steward patiently directed them while assuring that he merely wanted them nearby in case their counsel was required. He needed their patience while he attempted to get to the bottom of the situation. Meanwhile Lysa was getting more and more frantic as her uncle frog marched her back into the Lord's wing. She was shouting for Harry and the Imp to die as well asking the Arryn men-at-arms to protect her and her 'sweet child' Robyn. Catelyn Stark followed in their wake with a stoic look that could have taught stones to appear lifeless. She would occasionally look to the valyrian steel dagger that had not left her side since she'd recovered it from the assassin's dead hand.

Ser Vardis Egen, not quite sure of what to do with so many conflicting orders had smartly laid hands on Tyrion Lannister who had been edging towards his sellsword despite his chains and manacles. Ser Morton joined him so none involved would have opportunity for anything foolish. Harry bid his brother Wallace to join Ser Morton and then make himself available to the steward. He figured pushing forward a claim now would hurt his reputation as well as reveal his power play. For that was what it was.

After witnessing Robyn and Lysa presiding over the Eyrie court he knew those two could not be left in charge of anything. Robyn had the bearing and mental capacity of a child half his age and the mother seemed taken with a madness Harry had never seen before. She was also playing an obvious defense, something a guilty person would do if they weren't very cunning. She was clearly not. Which fired an anger in him at what he was now convinced was a betrayal of his great uncle. Tully and Baelish. He might have finally found the names of his family's enemy. He would need Baelish and some time alone with Lysa to search her mind for the full extent of the plotting. It also sadly called into question the long service of Brynden Tully to House Arryn.

So he returned to his quarters so none could accuse him of anything and related to Willum and Kara what had happened. They both wondered if he was the Lord of the Vale now, but he told them to keep such questions to themselves. They would only worry about his place in the Vale when it became necessary. They spent the rest of the day in their suite of rooms with Harry testing Willum's knowledge of the duties of squires and knights while Kara did upkeep on the three's clothing to keep up appearances, since Harry could do the same with a few spells.

They had dinner in the room and Steward Royce met with Harry briefly, letting him know that Lysa, her kin, and the assembled witnesses were all now confined to their quarters. He planned to investigate the matter further on the morrow as well as send ravens to the rest of the Vale Lords and Ladies to call for a council of succession. Harry suggested he speak with the soldier Gardan about possible adultery. He also recommended Raven's to the Hand of the King and Castlery Rock to try to diffuse tension caused by Imp's arrest. The Steward had removed Tyrion from the Sky Cells after Catelyn Stark revealed Lord Baelish was the one who had pointed the finger at Tyrion. The Imp still remained a guest under guard but was no longer in danger of imminent death.

That night as he lay in bed with Kara he continued to brood on Littlefinger and the Tullys. The feisty young blond was insatiable as ever and continued to try to coax him from his bad mood so he could satisfy her. After another rebuff she hit him with a very cogent argument he'd never considered. What if he was being paranoid and imagining a decades long conspiracy? What if there was only a recent one or he was finding one because he was looking for it? What if all of those other heirs had died as the will of the gods so he could inherit? He was not just any other man but a wizard. What if it were destiny for him to rule?

The thought was new enough to jostle him out of his simmering anger. Whether she was right or not, it was an interesting idea. One that she should be rewarded for. Which he did with vigor until they fell asleep exhausted but happy.

HP - aSoIaF

The next day was a blur of activity. Steward Royce called all the lords and knights present to break fast in the Eyrie's Grand Hall. The Lannister prisoner was still held in guest quarters with his sellsword Bronn, while the noble born Tully's including the long time ally of the Vale, Bryden Tully, were being respectfully confined to the Lord's Wing. Lysa Arryn had spun a tale to the steward about her aberrant behavior just being her shock at Ser Hardyng's jesting. She was calling for his exile from Arryn lands for joking in such poor taste about his liege lord and his lady regent mother. Catelyn Stark and the Blackfish were both silent, and before long requested of Lysa that she give no further statement while the steward prepared for a trial.

After eating, roll was called to see who was present. Most of the major houses of the Vale had representation with notable Knights such as Lyn Corbray, Andar Royce, Jasper Redfort, and Morton Waynwood rounding out their council. Very few at the table were at all confident of Robyn's parentage after Lysa Arryn's display. But there were both valid and self-serving protests to stripping Robert of his name or Lysa of her de facto regency. Doing so would set a dangerous precedent for their houses, removing heirs and children from the lineage without definitive proof. With some notable heirs in the council this was a major deterrent to action.

As well, through his reading of the room Harry was able to determine that Ser Lyn Corbray, brother of the Corbray Lord and Ser Eustace Hunter, the second son of House Hunter were extremely interested in marrying Lysa and becoming Regent of the Vale. Harry was a bit sickened by the bitter cynicism and blind ambition those two displayed. Neither were the least attracted to Lysa and saw her as a pawn to be manipulated. Probably the same feelings Lord Baelish held for her as well. They also still had to deal with the arrest and trial of Tyrion Lannister.

After a round of chasing their tails with circular logic and poor suggestions, Steward Royce informed them that he had held off on sending ravens to Castlery Rock and the Red Keep because he wasn't sure what to tell them. He had allowed Catelyn Stark to send word to her husband the Hand of the King about what was transpiring. It was his hope the honorable Lord of Winterfell could prevent hostilities between the Vale and Lord Tywinn. Since this council was against removing Robyn and therefore Lysa from power he asked them what they should do as well as what messages were to be sent.

Harry had spent the time others were arguing thinking about what was truly needed. They needed to know both who had poisoned Lord Arryn and who Robert's father was. Those answers could only be found in King's Landing and Lysa Tully's mind, and likely could only be accessed by him using active legilimency. He hoped if he knew the truth he could then secure proof to support it. His looming exile was also on his mind if he failed. When Steward Royce called for plans, Harry waited for the first few dim or cautious ideas before calling attention to himself.

"I think I should be 'exiled' and some of you good knights should follow the letter of the law for a trial in four weeks time." The assembled knights looked at him as if he were a bit simple but he soldiered on. "Let Lysa believe she has succeeded in killing rumors of infidelity, let her take on the trappings but not the power of regency. Perhaps she will panic and put to words some of the conspiracy to her lover Baelish. A slender hope, but something we should pursue with the Maester's assistance in reviewing any letters she might pen or receive." he reasoned.

"Meanwhile, as Lordly judges are brought in and witnesses assembled. I and some loyal Arryn men-at-arms travel to Gulltown then sail for King's Landing with great haste in response to my 'exile'. We apprehend Paetyr Baelish and any other likely conspirators and escort them back to the Eyrie for questioning. We will need to do some initial interrogation to ensure no witnesses or evidence is left in the capital, but by the time of the trail we will return with what we can uncover. This will need to take place in stealth so allies or intrigues at the royal court won't stop our pursuit of the truth."

"Depending on what is found we can cut the Imp loose and arrest others such as Baelish or Lysa if they are as guilty as many of us think they are. In the mean time, Steward you would forward on to Lord Tywinn any witnesses Tyrion requests to present themselves as well as a request for a Lannister advocate. And messages would be sent to House Tully and the King as well. That way all laws are being apparently upheld and if Tywinn does anything against the Vale, he will be in the wrong rather than us. While these legal maneuverings are going on, the Vale prepares for war just in case the Lannisters prove as vengeful as their reputation suggests."

Harry was pleased, aside from Lyn Corbray and Eustace Hunter, the assembled knights found his plan worthwhile. Nestor Royce seemed the most pleased to have a viable solution. Harry had assumed his long stewardship of the Vale would have honed his leadership characteristics, but apparently Lord Jon had been much more involved via correspondence than he had assumed, from what he could read from the man amongst the emotional chaos of the room.

So before midday he, Kara, Willum, and a squad of twenty Arryn men-at-arms led by Gardan were moving down from Eyrie at great speed. He left Kara and the bulk of his belongings at Moon Gate castle, mainly to keep her safe and out of the vengeful reach of Lysa Arryn who would be confined to the Eyrie while he was away. After a harrowing two and a half days of long rides interspersed with a hurried trip East downriver in a Vale longship his party reached Gulltown. With a letter from the steward they commandeered one the Arryn's ten galleys, the _Gull's Dinner_ and set off with the tide for the six day journey to King's Landing via the Narrow Sea and Blackwater Bay.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: The Heir Learns Many Things

Harry spent the trip planning out their mission with the squad of armsmen and flirted with telling his squire about his powers. Ultimately he decided he couldn't risk Willum knowing yet until he had secured his position in the Vale. His squad was comprised of men who had done multiple rotations with Lord Jon in the capital and would thus be familiar with King's Landing. Harry knew that for him to be truly effective he would need to get himself alone to work just as he had on his trip to Essos. So he had plans drawn for all of his squad to be occupied each day. In pairs, ten where to search out the staff Lysa had left behind to question them as well as offer passage back to the Vale on their ship.

Four where to stay on said ship to guard prisoners, as well as barter the goods that had been present in the hold of the ship they took over. The rest where to setup up a presence at an inn on Eel Alley just off Visenya's hill. In the privacy of their rooms information could be passed as well as pairs could filter in and out from searching the Street of Silk for the whereabouts of Paetyr Baelish. Harry and Willum were to ostensibly find and question Grand Maester Pycelle in the Red Keep as they were of noble birth and could more easily gain access. In reality Harry planned to pawn off Willum on his grandfather and uncle Ser Robyr who were staying near the Red Keep entertaining themselves with the king and perhaps searching out a marriage contract for Robyr.

Harry had planned out a letter for Willum to give Bronze Yohn once they had completed their mission, as they would need the powerful lord to return with them for a true council of succession or any war preparations. He had every intention of stalking and capturing Paetyr that first night and then snatching Pycelle after he dropped off Willum. He would work the two over the following evening and then redirect his men to grab up anything useful or relevant before getting out of the capitol before any royal, city watch, or mercenary allies could intervene. The black haired wizard assumed Paetyr would have to have cultivated some allies in court if he truly had the ambition of ruling the Vale as regent over his bastard son masquerading as an Arryn.

The trip by sea was uneventful with no harsh weather to mar the sunny days of the spring season. The only sight worthy of mention was viewing the bulk of the Royal fleet at anchor surrounding Dragonstone. The fertile volcanic isle from which the Targaryen conquerors had emerged was unremarkable from a distance but the countless war ships were another matter. The Royal fleet was said to number over two hundred ships and Harry could well believe it seeing so many in close proximity.

While a large majority of them were the single mast galleys with a sterncastle housing a few cabins as well as a platform for archers or a couple ballista like he was currently traveling on, there were quite a few double masted carracks with fore and sterncastles for scorpions or small catapults. There were even a handful of giant galleons with three masts and much larger towers designed purely for sea combat. With their Arryn colors flying they passed by unchallenged.

A patrol did stop them just before they could enter the Blackwater rush, slowing them for an hour before towing them to the river harbor, but it was only a cursory check with their Vale credentials. The harbor itself was only serviceable compared to what the Free Cities had to offer. He was also already focusing on their mission and didn't pay it much attention. Harry would soon be begging off to rest that evening in the inn while his men dispersed. He would then only have to get past Willum with a Notice-me-not ward around his bed or a stunning hex to begin his hunt.

As soon as the party of eighteen maneuvered through Fish Monger's square onto the Muddy Way, Harry learned of the sarcasm of the capital's denizens for naming it such. Even used to the pungent smells of the harbor from his trips abroad and to Gulltown, the smell of refuse and shit wending it's way down the road like a slow moving river from the juncture of Visenya and Rhaeny's hills made him gag. He was glad the men-at-arms had warned him and distributed the wooden shoe covers required to keep one's boots relatively unsoiled. As he bent down to affix them to his boots he surreptitiously cast the Agnosmia charm to temporarily remove his sense of smell.

An hour and half later he and Willum were ensconced in the largest of six rooms they'd hired from the Falcon's Rest inn, a business that was apparently partly owned by House Arryn from Lord Jon's time in the capital. While he had sent Willum out of the room to bring them supper he withdrew the map of King's Landing that Steward Royce had provided him to aid his mission. His main magical project whilst at sea had been to learn spells helpful for locating and hunting people. He did not have the time to fruitlessly search the populous city, not if he wanted to unravel perhaps multiple plots as well as covertly arrest the guilty and search for evidence of their wrongdoing.

The grimoire first taught him the incredible stalking spell Homonum Revelio which altered one's vision to see human life signs, even through obstructions. Next was the glamour charm which could throw up an illusion over his face and hair to provide a useful disguise. It wouldn't stand up to touch or last more than an hour without needing to be recast, but perfect for missions in the capital where his face could be known and recognized, unlike his escapades in Essos.

The Grimoire then taught him the frustrating art of scrying. Frustrating because it could be blocked if the person is near a magically powerful site or surrounded by wards, required one to already have something that once belonged to the one you were seeking, the fresher the better, and finally even if you did everything right it only worked if the person remained in the same location for the entire duration of the casting chant. So while alone in his cabin and now at the inn he pulled the key component to any scrying spell, the object of focus.

For him it was the now infamous valyrian steel dagger, which a small covetous part of him wanted to keep after this affair reached it's conclusion. Steward Royce and the Blackfish had managed to convince Catelyn to provide the dagger so it's passage from Baelish to the King and beyond could be more accurately determined. Willum returned with their meal before he got a hit. Afterwards as the thoroughly bored squire reviewed his notes from Essos as a test of both his military knowledge and his facility with reading, Harry place his wards and hit his squire with a deafening hex. He then returned to the awkward maneuvering of wand, dagger, and swinging crystal on a string over the map while he chanted. It took another thirty minutes of perseverance before the swinging crystal dropped on the map. He now had a target.

Next he prepared for his adventure. He put on his boiled leather armor and hauberk minus the helmet and gloves. Over his armor he wore a baggy beige long doublet with slighter darker and bulkier sleeves. It served both to cover his armor and make him appear bigger than his already impressive six foot two inches of admittedly slim teenage build. He wore brown leather pants with thick knee high brown boots loose enough in the calf to conceal his greaves. He added a mace and dagger to his belt, thinking a long sword too confrontational for a stealthy kidnapping. Finally he transfigured his pillow briefly into a mirror so he could cast the glamour charm. He chose the face and hair of a non-descript braavosi man he had met with the Windblown sellswords.

Harry somewhat guiltily stunned his squire and positioned him as if he'd nodded off while reading. He swore for perhaps the thirtieth time that he would make up for his lack-luster mentorship of his young charge. He apparated to a shadowed alcove he could see from his room's window and cringed at the crack and pop that rang out into the night. But in the still bustling metropolis his sudden appearance went unnoticed. Noting a dead dog blocking the alley entrance Harry thought this might be a relatively safe place to etch a transportation key. That done, Harry nonchalantly set off to the Street of Silk to find a man he had never met but who he was never-the-less growing to hate immensely.

As he traveled through this brothel rich district he was shocked at the sheer robustness of the industry. If he had ever developed some sort of niche sexual deviancy or taste for rare skin tones or hair color, he now knew where to scratch that hypothetical itch. Harry was also never so glad he had Kara in his life. For the feigned amorous affections on display might have been alluring to him if he had not already sampled the real emotion these sad souls tried to buy and sell. As such he was not too distracted and honed in on the location he was sure corresponded to the scrying he had just completed.

Upon entering the silk draped multi-level building he was inundated with scantily clad and heavily scented whores eager for his silver and gold. After staying firm despite some skillful groping and even more alluring promises he finally convinced a topless woman to take him to the brothel's manager, which he hoped would be Baelish based on Tyrion's characterizations of the man.

As the women dispersed in search of their next clients he saw the many screens and paintings depicting erotic subjects that graced the foyer and common room. He was taken to a study on the second floor and blushed in embarrassment at the many feigned moans of pleasure coming from rooms on this level. Instead of Littlefinger he met a gorgeous but fading dark-skinned beauty of the Summer Isles who asked him what business he had in her brothel while bracketed by two muscular toughs.

Hoping he hadn't missed his target while he made the trip from his inn, he asked the women if she were the purchaser of new whoreflesh, obliquely. Slavery was illegal in Westeros but it was not in Essos. Across the narrow sea almost all whores were slaves, even the high class ones with the notable exception of the courtesans of Braavos. Seeing many familiar foreign ethnicities during his trek he assumed the whore trade was a grey area and that some work around had been created to allow such a healthy marketplace in the capital. Harry hoped that using discrete but vague terms and implying large amounts of gold or "merchandise" he could encourage this Chataya to produce Littlefinger.

He was not disappointed as the short but fit middle aged man arrived fifteen minutes after he began his meandering explanation about accidentally acquiring a ship full of bed-slaves from Lys that he was interested in finding a new home for. For the right price of course. He much more succinctly repeated his story to Paetyr who watched him keenly with his grey-green eyes and benign smile. Littlefinger told him that he was indeed in the right place and asked him to follow him to his private study where they could talk business and allow Chataya to get back to running her brothel.

As he followed Baelish back across the length of the house to a second flight of stairs circling up into a stone turret he realized he had slipped up somehow. He felt pretty confident his slight accent and dress were spot on but it didn't really matter. He read Paetyr as they walked, and he was getting strong flashes of worry, fear, and anticipation. Knowing that he was likely about to be ambushed he casually drew his wand and cast the Homonum Revelio charm as well as silencing his clothing and armor. His left hand also moved to his mace, ready to draw it while appearing to just be lazily resting his hand on the weapon. His wand was lightly palmed, with the angle of his hand hiding it from sight, but ready to be extended for the rapid and precise wand movements of whatever spell he might cast first.

As he circled the stairs he gradually let Baelish rush ahead so he could look through the walls and floor at what he would face. As soon as he saw Paetyr join four others he began to regret not having back up. He didn't want tonight to be the first time his was forced to kill but he steeled himself with the knowledge that he must win, whatever the odds. When he crossed through the large room's archway he saw the weapons these sellswords had arrayed against him and quickly decided on a plan to defeat the ambush.

Paetyr continued to rush to the farthest portion of the room while a large man in boiled leather armor drew a long sword. Directly across from the entrance a man in padded armor targeted him with a crossbow while the final two drew short swords and moved to approach him from either side. Harry readied his wand and dramatically drew his mace to draw attention away from it. As Littlefinger called him a false knight and demanded his surrender Harry shouted one of his few area effect charms, Totum Tenebrae which shot a fountain of darkness from his wand which sought out and covered every light in the vicinity.

Even in the unnatural pitch black the mercenaries tried to grab him. Most worried about the crossbowman that he could still see as a redish-orange glowing life force, Harry threw up a Ferroa Scutum shield while kneeling. The dark grey, opaque extension of magic from his wand was solid only when in contact with metals and it was raised just in time as the crossbow bolt clanged off the upper half of the rectangular construct before lodging in the wall to his side. Knowing the three men further out would be relatively useless in the dark, Harry released his shield so he could cast other spells and maneuvered to take care of the two guards still cautiously moving towards the room's entrance.

With his apparel silenced it seemed an easy matter to split the two men, but one of their flailing short swords clipped his shoulder since his sight augmenting spell only revealed their flailing arms not the length of the blades in their hands. The man that scraped his boiled leather pauldron attempted to follow through by pushing blindly forward while taking larger swings. Harry had already moved behind the other man who cursed when his partner slashed him across his thigh.

Harry used the man's body as a screen and silently cast a Stupefy hex into his back, followed by a light tap with his mace to the back of his head. In his planning for tonight's excursion he decided that would be the method for dropping any bystanders who sought to deny him his target. The bruise when they woke up with would explain much of the situation. He would also hit them with Obliviation curses on the way out. With the man now closest to him still swinging hard Harry moved behind the fumbling crossbowman who had drawn and then dropped his dagger.

As the crossbowman man rose victoriously with his weapon, Harry again stunned then struck his foe and approached his first opponent who was dangerously close to stumbling through the archway and down the stairs. The black haired knight felt it a mercy to promptly render him unconscious. He now focused on the final guard as well as Baelish. Littlefinger was much further back into the room frantically manipulating something in his hands. The guard was yelling to let him in and apparently banging on something wooden, though Harry didn't remember there being another exit to this room.

Harry crossed the room and disposed of the last deterrent to his target who did not even notice his approach. He stepped towards the last glowing orange life form but was thwarted by an obstruction to a new room Baelish had somehow fled to. So Harry cast the counter charm to his darkness spell and the room rapidly returned to its previous state. He now saw a giant wardrobe blocking whatever hidden tunnel Littlefinger had managed to flee to. Worried that a secret passage might allow his target to escape, Harry pointed his wand at the wardrobe and cast the Reducto charm which blew a platter sized hole in the front and back of the heavy furniture sending wooden shrapnel into the hidden room.

It revealed a small lantern lit alcove but the wizard couldn't see Baelish any longer. His revealing spell had lapsed. Harry then made a mistake. In his urgency to pursue Paetyr he did not reapply the charm but sent a second shatter charm into the lower portion of the false wall and burst after the debris into the small room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a crouching Littlefinger spring towards him with his dagger poised to stab down into his neck. He instinctively blocked the downward thrust on his vambrace, but the force of the stab caused the knife to rebound and slide down his arm to cut shallowly into his shoulder, darting below his shifting chain shortsleeve.

"Now you're dead, fool assassin," Paetyr prematurely gloated as Harry was already moving in his drilled combat forms. He struck Baelish in his wrist with his mace, cracking at least one bone and causing the man to drop his knife. By his claim of victory after only one scratch Harry knew he'd been poisoned but continued towards his goal. Despite the burning in his right arm he snapped off an Immobilus Hex followed by smashing his mace horizontally into Littlefinger's gut. It amused him greatly to see Baelish begin to turn blue as he attempted to breath with his bruised diaphragm while the rest of his skeletal muscles were locked in place.

He kicked the paralyzed bastard to the ground then dropped his mace while sheathing his wand. It was a fast acting poison and his body had already started to burn and shake. With fumbling fingers he managed to retrieve his tandem antidotes and downed them in quick succession. He then calmly guided the now empty purgatory vial to his wound and caught the oily poison as it was forced out of his body. He returned the empty single use vials to his potions pouch and drew his dagger. Harry quickly cut strips from the prone poisoner's high quality black doublet and transfigured them into linens to bind his cut.

Intensely focused after his recent brush with death the young wizard roughly turned his enemy over with a few kicks. Bealish had now worked out how to breath with shallow breaths and lost his unnatural pallor. Harry doubted he would have much time before Baelish's employees called in reinforcements or the gold cloaks, so when he delved into the connivers mind he only did a cursory search for any valuables or information hidden at this location. His luck was improving as this entrance to a secret tunnel also held a hidden cache where Paetyr kept a ledger of some of his dealings and a small chest containing a sizable amount of gold dragons and loose jewels. He also noted the trap door that led to a secret passage that could connect with the Red Keep and it was only secured by a number of locks. With transfiguration at his disposal, non-magical locks were no barrier to Harry.

Harry quickly hit the trigger to move aside the hidden panel, revealing the cache which he then shrunk down it's contents to a fifth of their size and placed them in one of two canvas sacks he had brought along for tonight's activities. He cast a Featherweight charm at the shrunken chest since it still retained it's original weight. He also grabbed the few vials and jars from which Paetyr had selected his poison and added them to the sack. Tying that to his belt he then placed the other bag over a now stunned Littlefinger and dragged the man back into the turret room. Since all of the pieces of wardrobe and false wall were in the vicinity Harry was successful in using the Reparo charm to once again hide the secret passage.

He heard a commotion outside the brothel and a quick peak out the window showed a squad of gold-cloaked city watch talking with one of the bouncers. Knowing he was out of time and hearing heavy shod boots at the bottom of the stairs, Harry began casting Obliviation curses at the downed thugs in the room to erase the last half hour from their memories. He then grabbed Baelish upper arm and focused on the teleportation key he had just placed outside the Falcon's Rest. With a crack he and Baelish side-along apparated to the alley where the popping sound of his arrival clashed with the squalling of a cat that had been pushed aside by the clearing mechanism of his transportation key.

The weightlessness of travel followed quickly by the twisting landing and Littlefinger's dead weight sent him crashing to the dirty alley floor. As he lay there sprawled over the unconscious Baelish with rotting animal, muck, and cat piss filling his nostrils, Harry felt exhausted. Even though the entire encounter probably took less than twenty minutes he felt like he had been fighting in a melee for hours. His poisoning, the adrenaline of combat, and the rapid casting of many spells was a new and humbling experience. Apparently he wasn't an invincible demi-god as his magical powers sometimes made him feel.

Knowing he was far from the end of this night Harry grit his teeth in determination and stood on legs shaky from his rough Apparation. After a few deep breaths to steady himself he redrew his wand and set about transfiguring the rest of Baelish's fancy overshirt into a gag and stout bindings for his hands and feet. He hit the man in the temple with a stinging curse to give a visible reason for his unconscious state then transfigured the last scraps of his doublet into a cheap canvas sheet which he draped over the body. Harry hit Littlefinger with an Obliviation curse as well just to be thorough. He finally dispelled his glamour and made his way back to the inn.

Entering the common room he saw a pair of Arryn men-at-arms who had paused in their search to have a meal and some drinks. He motioned for them to follow him and when they reached their rooms commanded them to grab full cloaks and any weapons or armor they could wear discretely. Next Harry entered his room, and looked upon Willum with a smile. He cast an Enervate charm at his squire while quickly sheathing his wand.

"Oy squire, no time to be resting. The Father has blessed our cause in seeking justice by providing us a gift. Not five minutes ago I heard a man call out Baelish's name as he passed below our window. I rushed down to the street and knocked out the snake while you nodded over your reading. He's in an alley for now but we best get him stowed back at the ship. Get a move on, here's enough gold to rent the Inn's cart and a nag to pull it. Make sure you fill the cart with hay so no one will know of our true cargo, yes." Willum had startled quite heavily from the jolt of the spell and Harry's words seemed to hurtle past him only half understood.

Squire Royce articulated a, "Huh?" before Harry was forced to repeat his orders. The youth ran out of the room so fast to follow his instructions he neglected to grab a cloak or dagger for their trip. Harry did so for him and met his men-at-arms in front of the inn. Willum soon arrived and with the four of them working together, it was an easy task to stow Baelish in the cart bed hidden below loose hay. They made it to the River Gate without being stopped but their free ride then came to an end. The watch sergeant was questioning their purpose for using a cart so late into the evening with cloaked faces.

Harry was ready to prevaricate with a story about this being the only time they had access to the cart or to order his men to keep going while he used memory charms to make the whole squad of gold cloaks imagine their presence. But one of the Arryn soldiers who knew a bit more about the corruption rampant in King's Landing merely handed the watch sergeant a pouch of coins while shaking his hand quietly mentioning something about the "price of commerce."

The young knight was sickened by the practiced manner in which the guards took the bribe and waved them through. While it was of aid to them since it didn't reveal their arrest of Littlefinger, it still challenged his sense of honor. He vowed that when he ruled the Vale such transactions would be snuffed out and the greedy and corrupt cleansed from his forces to join the Night's Watch. Hopefully the bitter cold and bonds of brotherhood could force some honor onto them.

As Harry brooded about honor less men and his own knightly vows, his men grew frustrated with their companions on the galley who should have seen their signal by now and sent a row boat. The Harbor authorities tended to require ships to anchor away from the docks so ship traffic could flow more smoothly. Finally they were retrieved and Harry found himself in a cabin with the ship's captain Ser Nerris of the Paps, the first mate, and the four men-at-arms he left on the ship. With Harry's insistence on secrecy they decided to stow Paetyr in bilge until they set sail for Gulltown. His temporarily transfigured rope bindings were also replaced with genuine metal shackles.

He strongly cautioned the men about letting Littlefinger speak to them as he would surely try to barter for his freedom with promises of the moon. And likely pay those promises in poison or daggers to the back. He was sure the captain at least understood that if word got out that the Master of Coin was stashed on his ship they were likely to be

attacked by paid thugs if not arrested by the gold cloaks. They parted with Harry warning his men to keep a better sentry as he was likely to return each night either with new prisoners or to question those they already had. Thankfully this very long night came to an end with an uneventful ride back to the inn, followed by a late bath, a bit of regeneration potion for his cut shoulder, and the uninterrupted sleep of total exhaustion.

HP-aSoIaF

Willum woke Harry a few hours past dawn as the knighted wizard had asked him to. On the cart ride back to the Falcon's Rest, Harry had been forced to re-evaluate his plans in light of the difficulties and mistakes he made. The Arryn's motto: As High as Honor had also been much on his mind before his body gave in to tiredness. Coming down here he had worked himself up into a frenzy of divine vengeance against his House's enemy Lord Baelish. The practiced manner with which Paetyr attempted to ambush him assuaged some of his doubts, but he realized he wasn't operating all that much differently than Catelyn Stark when she arrested the Imp.

He learned something from a single source and then acted rashly on it. Harry was still quite sure he was in the right with arresting Baelish. But thinking on his knightly honor made him question his plan to arrest Grand Maester Pycelle. What if the man was innocent and had just missed the poisoning or Colemon was mistaken that leeching was helping his fatally poisoned lord. Not only might arresting Pycelle be unjust, but even if it turned out Harry was right to do such a thing, there would be repercussions.

Pycelle was the Grandmaester, selected to be the representative from his order for the King. Abducting him for questioning as his earlier plans called for might create enemies for the Vale if Pycelle turned up there to stand trial. Powerful enemies like the King and the Maester's order. As well, as a Grandmaester, he probably had earned his valyrian steel chain link and therefore knew or practiced some form of magic. In light of his near death experience, Harry was now considering the possibility he might fail to capture the man especially since he couldn't know what magical powers were available to the elderly Maester.

He would have to delay. He would also have to plan contingencies for escaping with his identity intact if it should turn out Pycelle wasn't the villain of his imagining. No one must connect Harold Hardyng with investigating the king's advisor. So to give himself some time to think up new plans, Harry and Willum would use Lord Royce to escort them around the Red Keep to scout for opportunities. Harry had Willum dress him as a knight with his hauberk and leather armor over his padded under clothes, topped with a tabard bearing House Hardyng's red and white checkered sigil.

Harry heard progress reports from his men-at-arms and discretely let them know that Littlefinger had already been captured. He wanted them to finish up interviewing and start gathering Lord Jon's abandoned household today so they would be available to follow any lead he got from Baelish. He and Willum then traveled to the small but well appointed town house that past Royce family members had purchased on Aegon's High Hill near the outer wall of the Red Keep. They arrived early enough to catch Lord Yohn and Ser Robyr, slightly hung over, breaking their fast.

Having met the large and bluff Lord of Runestone and his redheaded second son a couple times before, their meal conversation mostly focused on planning out the training Willum was to receive. Harry neglected to mention his possible exile or other goings on in the Vale. Willum's grandfather and uncle convinced Harry that he was a rare individual to have switched his dominant hand and that Willum would train in the traditional manner. Harry managed to get the Bronze Yohn to invite them to spar in the Red Keep bailey with all the other knights and soldiers attached to the royal castle. They were to then take lunch with the royal court. Afterwards Yohn would give them a tour of the Red Keep itself since neither Harry or Willum had ever been to King's Landing before.

The green-eyed wizard was happy with the day's agenda as it would give him a chance to get the layout of the keep as well as disposition of soldiers manning it's grounds. The Royces were content to watch Harry as he got a workout with blunted sword and axe with some of the Royce men-at-arms. Once he felt sufficiently exercised he spent the rest of the morning finally focused on working with Willum under the watchful gaze of his grandfather while Robyr separated to work on jousting with the other assembled knights. Out in the portion of bailey set aside for training Harry began to notice a strange pattern.

There were distinct factions amongst the knights and men-at-arms practicing their martial arts beneath the White Sword Tower of the Kingsguard. The most numerous was a grouping of Lannister knights bearing their individual sigils and red cloaked Lannister men-at-arms. The gold cloaks of the city watch trained alongside their crimson garbed counterparts. And giving that larger contingent dark glares where a smaller grouping of what Harry thought must be Northmen by the amount of grey in their motley garb of heavy plate armor and fur covered cloaks and clothing.

The last group included all those knights and soldiers sworn to other regions of the Seven Kingdoms. Strangely, Harry recognized very few banners hailing from the Crownlands. This segregation was also present at the long tables of Maegor's Holdfast where the assembled knights, lords, and ladies had lunch from the king's larder. Ser Harold felt he should pay for his meal but Lord Royce informed him it was the practice of the King to feast visiting nobility from the common food provided for his Crownland and Westerland knights and men-at-arms.

Harry began eating in silence, taking in the royal court for the first time. His eye was first drawn to Queen Cersei who sat with a fairly large group of ladies in waiting. He almost thought Kara Stone had snuck into King's Landing to see him before he noticed her green eyes, much richer dress, elaborate jewelry, and slightly older features. Clearly physical beauty ran in the Lannister bloodline. There were quite a few other unknown maidens and lady wives present who were also worthy of note in their finery, but none looked his way with his nearly unknown tabard sigil placing him beneath notice to those unfamiliar with the Vale.

At the head table he saw the boisterous king setting to a large meal with frequent wine refills for a midday meal. Judging by his large belly and flushed jowly face such excess was a common practice for the King. Sitting beside the giant man was his equally large younger brother Renly who looked dapper out of the armor Harry had met him in at the Harrenhal tourney. Also present at the head table must be the two princes and the princess judging be their golden hair and green eyes. 'Luckily they take after their mother' Harry thought to himself. While the Baratheons were large men and renowned warriors their thick black hair and coarse features weren't as aesthetically pleasing as those displayed by the royal children or their queenly mother. 'Though that cruel smirk and haughty upturned nose makes the heir Joffrey look a spoilt brat', he thought.

Unfortunately Grand Maester Pycelle was not in attendance. He asked about the small council and the Hand of the King, hoping for Lord Royce to point them out. That was when he learned the cause for the divided factions of soldiers here in the capital. Apparently word of Catelyn Stark's arrest of Tyrion had reached King's Landing. The Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister had then rashly ambushed Lord Stark in the streets with a larger force of red cloaks. In the fighting, one of Jaime's soldiers interfered in their duel, injuring Eddard and the Kingslayer had the rest of his sworn Northmen escort killed. The reckless member of the Kingsguard had then abandoned his post serving the king to lead some three hundred Westerland knights, men-at-arms, and opportunistic hedge knights up the Kingsroad to try and free his brother as he was traveling to Winterfell.

Since there were still more Lannister soldiers here than any other group besides the gold cloaks Harry received an interesting history lesson from the Bronze Yohn. In the aftermath of Robert's Rebellion negotiations between King Robert, Stannis Baratheon, Tywinn Lannister, and Jon Arryn set up limits on the amount of sworn swords hailing from outside the Crownlands that could enter King's Landing. Tywinn managed to secure Cersei the right to bring in five hundred knights and men-at-arms. While the Hand of the King could only garrison two hundred of his soldiers and a visiting Lord Paramount was allowed a hundred. Lesser lords and knights were to limit their supporters to ten, but no one actually paid attention enough to count sigils and colors for the less notable nobility.

When he asked why the King didn't have a comparable force of Baratheon men-at-arms or Crownland supporters he learned a few more disappointing things about his King. In addition to gluttony, and apparently womanizing, the King shirked his duties for governance. Jon Arryn had wrangled for Robert the right to swear Crownland houses to a newly created House Baratheon of the Crownlands, while his designated successor to Storms End, Renly gained the fealty of the Stormlands as its Lord Paramount. As some of the most loyal supporters of the Targaryen dynasty, the Crownland nobility was decimated in the rebellion.

King Robert was to reassign or bolster new sworn houses to the royal Baratheon line and raise up a peerage in the Crownlands that would double the size of the Lannister's red cloaks as well as train and bolster the equally decimated city watch that was destroyed in the Lannister's sacking of King's Landing. Instead he spent his time reveling, traveling the tourney circuit, and hunting. Only those lands sworn to Stannis as Lord of Dragonstone had recovered to the levels of management and military service that had once existed.

The neglected villages, towns, and farmlands that were to be under the direct control of the royal family were only fully utilized in the last decade, managed by powerful merchants that invested in Robert's frequent tourneys to expand their business portfolios. The Master of Coin's excellent relationships with these entrepreneurs was a great part of his continuing position on the small council. The knights and men-at-arms that were to train and provide example to the gold cloaks never materialized, leaving the city watch an inferior fighting force compared to those available to other Lord Paramounts of the Seven Kingdoms.

Lest he leave a harsh criticism as his only comment on the King, Yohn was quick to laud his traits in the hunt, skills as a warrior, and as a supporter of tournaments and the commerce they generated. He was also apparently quite charismatic and a great companion to feast and wench with. The Lord of Runestone considered his visits to King's Landing to be a vacation from his duties to his house and liege lord. There was little ceremony to the meal unlike an official feast so when finished Bronze Yohn offered to show them the sights of the Red Keep, allowing Robyr to get up to his own devices.

As they moved about the historic keep and famous castle towers Harry wondered if the Targaryens, hailing from magic rich Old Valyria had left behind any enchantments here in their seat of power. Every so often he would draw his wand and cast the Reliquum Magica spell he had learned when he was searching the Vale for curses against House Arryn. He would also quickly hit Lord Royce and his squire with Oblivation charms which seemed to work even better now that he had cast the Fidelius charm. Harry expected the first residue of magic to be found within the Iron Throne when they toured the keep's famous Great Hall. But the uncomfortable looking chair forged from the broken blades of the conquered proved entirely mundane.

Is wasn't until Willum begged his grandfather to see the dragon skulls and they descended to a store room accessed through the Traitor's Walk Tower that his search bore fruit. The skulls and other bones were impressive both for their size and how intact they were. The dragon bone handle on the valyrian blade he carried suggested that dragon bones had not always been so revered. After his spell revealed that the bones still carried magic, Harry pried loose a tooth and carved a sliver of bone with the extremely sharp and durable dagger to test them later as potential potions ingredients.

In case these magical bones were important Harry needed to secure for himself the ability to return unobtrusively. So he cast a notice-me-not charm on himself then set to etching a teleportation key in a corner hidden by one of the giant skulls. As he worked he also thought such an access point to the Red Keep might be useful in any plans he might make regarding Maester Pycelle. Harry then conjured a light gust of air to smooth the room's thick layer of dust over the key to prevent its discovery. He chuckled a bit at Lord Royce and his squire's growing panic at his defacing the skulls then ostensibly disappearing. As he finished his task and hit them with more memory charms, Harry wondered if this is what stopping time felt like. Since only he knew of the true events that transpired, it was almost as if they never happened.

Their tour continued in the castle courtyard where other famous buildings and attached towers were noted. They were able to enter the Royal Sept, the Maidenvault, and the Round Room of the White Sword Tower. Stark men-at-arms barred them entrance to the Tower of the Hand, and they were stymied by a locked door at the Rookery, home to the massive unkindness of ravens servicing King's Landing. Harry was also happy to learn the squat tower housed the quarters of the Grandmaester. They finished their exploring with a stroll through the Royal Godswood. Harry checked the oak heart tree for magic but as expected for a non-weirwood he found nothing to suggest it held any significance.

Harry and Willum then bid Lord Royce goodbye with a promise to meet him the following day for more training at the Red Keep. In reading the important Vale Lord throughout the day Harry got the impression that Bronze Yohn was beginning to like him and respect his abilities to shepherd his son during his squireship. He also seemed an honest and astute man who could become a very important ally in the coming days. They returned to Falcon Rest for dinner, eager to hear news of their team's efforts.

Related over their evening meal, they heard a myriad of stories and responses from the close to one hundred Vale smallfolk that had composed the Hand of the King's household. Responses to questioning and the offer to return to the Vale ran the gamut from hostile at being abandoned so callously after years of service to grateful for rescue from the dire straits that had befallen them since losing their position and income. Some had made the best of their situation and found new employment or moved in with long time local significant others. About twenty had found their way back to the Tower of the Hand serving the Starks who were well thought of as Eddard had been fostered in the Vale.

The consensus from the questioning was that none of the servants had any idea Lord Jon had been poisoned. However almost all of them were quite angry with his widow for casting them aside and so quickly volunteered that they witnessed Lady Lysa sneaking away from the Tower for rendezvous with a lover. Some even supplied Lord Baelish as the mystery lover. Harry and some of the sharper men-at-arms realized that these 'witnesses' were probably lying seeing as they all were very loyal to Lord Jon and would have said something long before now if they had truly witnessed anything untoward.

Still, Harry was convinced Robyn was illegitimate and these probably false testimonies would look very damning when considered against Lysa firing them from service. If it required circumstantial evidence to reveal the truth he felt the slight sullying of his honor would be assuaged by a court arriving at the true course of events. He was also firmly committed to the belief that Lysa and Robyn would bring disaster to the Vale if he didn't stop them.

Another interesting and suspicious story was related to multiple Arryn men-at-arms about Jon Arryn's former squire. Squire Hugh did not return to the Vale as he could have but instead stayed in King's Landing to be knighted by King Robert. He then somehow acquired a large amount of silver to commission a brand new suit of armor. Ser Hugh was then killed in his first joust at the Hand's Tourney by known enforcer for the Lannisters, Ser Gregor Clegane. The men-at-arms all agreed the squire was not ready to be a knight, so his sudden rise and income, followed by an equally sudden death was very suspicious if not particularly illuminating.

After dinner Harry left Willum to his chores and took two armsmen as escort back to the _Gull's Dinner_. It was time to delve into Baelish's mind and hopefully learn a great many things. Harry knew that as clever as the traitorous schemer was, he would never get the information he needed without active legilimency. He was now thinking about how to hide his magic use from both the guards as well as Paetyr himself who would likely be allowed to speak of his treatment, at least during his trail.

This train of thought led him to the other conundrum of his magic. How could he use it in the open and yet keep his name free from the taint that his abilities would give him. If it were known he was a wizard he might be slandered, no one would trust him, and in the worse case scenario the Maesters or the church of the Seven might call for his execution. Despite the danger he longed for the freedom to use all of abilities to their fullest. It was deep in thought, relying on his escort to steer him clear of footpads and pick pockets, that Harry had an epiphany.

He needed to become two people. The first was his known identity. Ser Harold Hardyng, devout knight and heir to House Arryn. He must also develop a second persona, the Wizard of the Vale. A mysterious figure that arrives suddenly, tosses his magics about, and then vanishes just as precipitously. It would take some juggling. He would need not only his squire but a similar build accomplice who could fill in for him when both he and the wizard needed to be present. His thoughts immediately turned to his youngest foster brother Ser Wallace who was naturally left handed, of a similar height and build, and might be able to fill in for him in battle. In conjunction with the Fidelius charm, any magic near him would be attributed to his alter ego.

Overtime the mysterious wizard would grant many boons in peacetime and timely spells in battle and thereby win over the Vale's hierarchy. But during this time of earning the people's trust, he would be seen as an uncontrollable wild card and not connected to Ser Harry in any tangible way. The logistics still needed work, as well as what spells and disguises would be needed to pull off the deception. But he could start the plan now, tonight. It would be the Wizard of the Vale that barges in and interrogates Littlefinger. When his pronouncements of where to find evidence are shown to be true, Harry can reluctantly coax his men into a temporary alliance with the powerful stranger to find justice for their murdered liege.

Thoughts on the appearance and speech of this alternate persona brought him to the obvious person to model himself after: Archmage Potter. It was perfect, the name had a certain ring to it, and he already knew how the man dressed thanks to his interactive sessions with the Grimoire. He would have to alter the appearance slightly but not too much, let people wonder if there was some familial connection in the event his powers were ever revealed. Or if his children inherited his gifts. He supposed once his children started throwing around spells the cat would really be out of the bag. A new title for any daughters he might have was also needed because though the Grimoire stressed the female counterparts of wizards were witches he wouldn't be saddling any daughters of his with that dark moniker.

Harry spent the rest of the journey devising his deception. Thinking through the plan brought him a wonderful feeling of giddy excitement. He was going to use his magic in the open and fool everyone. It reminded him of the Grimoire speaking of Archmage Potter's other obsession besides flying and romance. What the book called the noble art of pranking. Harry was about to start a prank that even his alternate self would have to look on with awe.

HP - aSoIaF

Everything was set. Harry had convinced the Arryn armsmen to leave him alone with Baelish so he could 'soften' him up for questioning. He entered the room and immediately stunned the bound and gagged prisoner. Harry then conjured a mound of Earth to use as a transfiguration medium. He was eager to get to the point where he could just conjure things already formed, but the Grimoire told him it required a great deal more practice than he had achieved. It also required much greater amounts of mana in comparison to conjuring simple elements or 'molecules' whatever those were.

For now he had to be efficient so from the conjured earth he transfigured a likeness of himself, apparently unconscious. His tabard quickly became a thin veneer of black leather scales over his armor, mimicking the dragon hide armor the Grimoire's avatar often wore. He topped it off by transfiguring some more earth and shaping it with his magic into a long black cloak with hood.

He transfigured a floor length mirror from the remaining conjured earth to gauge his appearance. He used a subtle glamour to age his features and alter them slightly. After glancing at the greying Baelish with his finely manicured goatee, he decided to add a short trimmed beard that hugged his face with curly salt and pepper hairs. Next he added the lightning bolt scar in honor of Potter. It was still missing something. He brought the hood up and liked the way it shaded his features. He decided to enhance that with his glamour, adding shadows over his features while adding a subtle glow to his green eyes. He looked very powerful and mysterious. Perfect for the newly created Wizard Potter.

After dispelling the mirror, Harry cast the Enervation charm to revive Baelish then Disapparated within the room with a loud crack then pop. He quickly fired off a Silencing hex at his inert doppelganger to explain away it's seeming unconscious state, as the two men-at-arms that guarded the door threw it open to investigate the strange sound of his teleportation. Harry then turn and fired a weak red Banishing hex at the guards pushing the first into the second and both of them out of the room. They landed in a heap beyond the door, but otherwise unharmed. As they were struggling to their feet and Littlefinger attempted to shout for help through his gag, newly dubbed Wizard Potter cast a barrier Protego shield across the threshold to this section of the bilge.

This spell, a shimmering blue field, was designed to block and rebound most spells, though certain curses could bypass it and it would fail after taking a few heavy mana bolts. The Grimoire had cautioned him to always follow it with a conjured physical barrier to block projectiles, conjurations, and people just walking right through it. In this instance it was needed for none of these features but to be a flashy barrier for the benefit of his men-at-arms.

"Stop! Do not cross the Wall of Destruction! I am here to give you aid but will not allow you to interfere. When I learned this spell it was told to me it would be better to die by dragon fire than to breach its surface." The guards who had drawn weapons and were moving back towards the room immediately stepped back and sent up prayers to the Warrior to protect them.

"Good, you have some intelligence. My name is Wizard Potter and I have been watching your investigation quite keenly. You have done well so far, but I owe a debt to House Arryn from my youth and this young Ser Hatchling has a better chance of giving birth then getting a confession out of this slimy snake. So, gather a scribe or take the quill, ink, and parchment yourselves and record what I will discover. It is possible for me to enter this traitor's mind and ferret out all his secrets and treacheries. I will pass them onto you, and we shall see if it is enough to payback my obligation. Do nothing foolish, it would be a shame if I was forced to injure the Arryn Heir because you want to play hero. Hurry now, I don't intend to stay here all night." His entire speech was orated with crisp enunciation over a gravelly timbre to make Wizard Potter sound both refined and dangerous.

The two men-at-arms conducted a short argument before letting "Wizard Potter" know they would go along with things for now, not that they had much choice when confronted with the 'Wall of Destruction'. One of them rushed off, presumably to grab writing supplies while the other watched the room intensely, unconsciously fiddling with his sword pommel. His fellow guard returned with a lap desk and some scribing supplies as well as the ship's Captain, Ser Nerris of the Paps. Before this new witness could lodge any protest Harry spoke to draw their attention.

"I am now going to delve into this Littlefinger's mind. I may ask him questions to focus his attention on certain things. I will then relate my findings for you to give to Ser Hardyng after I revive him. Do not interfere or break my concentration, for I will be quite cross. The last man to vex me in such a way spent a week as a chamber pot, so I'll let you imagine what your fate will be if you are equally as foolish. Now, to business," he turned to the slightly panicking Baelish and pointed his wand after the few spell motions required before speaking gruffly the Legilimens incantation.

"Let's get right to the heart of the matter first. Did you conspire to kill Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale?" Harry was in luck. Paetyr Baelish had a very organized mind and his question brought the information and memories he sought right to the forefront. As the book had taught him, he could either steal the memories, thoughts, etc. and place them in his magically created 'neural clusters' as the Grimoire called it. These were the places in his mind that his occlumency defenses protected.

Or he could utilize a pre-constructed transition space in his magically rearranged mind where he would possess the memories temporarily, knowing them as if they were his own. From them he could consciously make new additions to his mental construct with the relevant information and allow what was taken to return to its previous location. Not wanting to have any piece of Paetyr remain within his mind he used the second method, and spent a few moments picking through what he "remembered" to consciously select relevant information.

"Well, men of the Vale we have one of the lead conspirators here, but...this is much bigger and more dangerous than I had assumed. My god, I'm not sure I should tell you all that were involved, it could lead to a civil war as widespread as Robert's Rebellion." Harry tried to embraced his recently created all knowing persona as his mind reeled at what he just learned. Lysa Tully wanted her husband dead to prevent him from sending her child away and in the hope she could marry her 'true love' Paetyr.

The queen had wanted the Hand of the King dead because he discovered her children were illegitimate and could not be Robert Baratheons. Littlefinger learned this in the course of managing his vast commercial empire and the tabs he kept on Jon Arryn, both for his own financial gain and to better facilitate his self-serving relationship with his wife. As the Hand unraveled the mystery of the black haired bastards versus the blond haired royals so to did Paetyr. But where the Hand saw betrayal, Littlefinger saw opportunity. In one stroke he could clear the way for his gaining control of the Vale.

By taking care of the Queen's problem he could gain her patronage which would be integral to him gaining a sufficiently lofty title so he could marry his besotted pawn who would ineptly hold the Vale for him. So he encouraged Lysa to do the deed as well as arranged for her to get the poison. When the Hand's ambitious squire Hugh witnessed Lysa messing with her husband's food, it was Baelish who bought his silence all the while whispering into the Queen's ear about the need to tie up loose ends.

When a frantic Cersei came to him in anger because Jon wasn't dying fast enough and might be able to tell someone of his discovery, they worked out that Grand Maester Pycelle could facilitate a quick silencing of the Hand. Littlefinger was growing impatient with Lysa's worsening paranoia over being caught and unhappy with the abrupt and suspicious way she had fled the capital. Harry could sense Lysa didn't have long to live after she married this conniving man.

But what to relate to the Arryn armsmen in his pretense of passing on information to his supposedly unconscious self? Nothing about the Queen. That would take some careful consideration about what was best for the Vale and the realm. But the willingness of Pycelle to do the Queen's bidding in complete disregard for his role as healer put him squarely back in Harry's sights. He was clearly corrupt and did not have armies at his command to further muddy the issue of justice with politics.

"Lysa Arryn nee Tully did the poisoning with this bastard's encouragement as well as providing her with the poison itself. He also bought off Lord Jon's squire, who got what he deserved in my opinion for betraying his liege when he died accidentally," the last word was said with dripping sarcasm.

"Now onto other pressing matters. Are you the father of the child known as Robert 'Robyn' Arryn?" As Harry processed and saved what he got from Baelish's mind he was troubled. "Sorry gentleman, this issue isn't quite so clear cut. The whore monger isn't sure. He knows Lysa drank moon tea for many years after her first few miscarriages in fear of ending up like her mother, dying in child birth. He did get her pregnant before her marriage but her lord father had that child done away with." He paused to process deeper concepts and ideas from Littlefinger.

"To him it apparently doesn't matter because both Maesters Colemon and Pycelle informed him that the child's shaking disease will kill him before he reaches adulthood. Either way he was going to marry Lysa, do away with her, then wait for Robyn to die. With many years as lord regent under his belt he knew he would have enough support by then to stay in power and establish his house as the new lords of Vale. Sickening." Harry shook his head in disgust before resuming the one sided interrogation.

"How were you going to deal with Ser Harold Hardyng over there in this plot to seize power?" Harry was surprised to learn that Paetyr hadn't been plotting his demise as well. He had hopes to either see him married outside the Vale or come to a working relationship. Littlefinger assumed if yet another heir dropped dead he wouldn't be able to play the games of blackmail and financial enticement that would be required for securing power. Only if all the other plans didn't work would he have to remove Harry.

"Hmm...It seems the young Hardyng was destined for a less gruesome fate. Married to some far off nobility in Dorne or the Stormlands. I bet our little investigation has likely changed those plans now," he chuckled gruffly, remembering he needed to sound different from his own voice. He made a mental note to find a voice altering charm before playing Potter again.

"Now, while we're here. You have quite the setup as Master of the Coin. We need evidence of your wrong doing. So are there any records showing your role in the murder of Lord Jon? And are there any other secrets about your rapid rise to power here in the capital other than adultery with the Hand's wife?" Using the questions to focus Littlefinger's mind Harry once again used legilimency to delve for answers.

"Men, let's make precise notes here. I've discovered Paetyr keeps extensive notations of his business transactions as he engages in so many that even he needs assistance to keep track. Quite a shame he's greedy, the traitorous filth, as his enterprises show he is a true genius at finance. In his ledgers he's kindly stipulated his trade in poisons and other banned substances sold through his brothels. He has also been using his position as Master of Coin to fund his own wealth."

"He borrows on behalf of the crown, funnels the money through businesses and intermediaries in quite an impressive network of commerce. The crown ends up holding most of the debt while he gains plenty of profit. None are the wiser because all his maneuvers earn more than anyone else ever did before despite his skimming. It seems to me it was really this man who has been ruling the Crownlands for years. If he had only been content with such wealth and power we wouldn't be forced to drag him back to the Vale and lop off his head." Harry laughed harshly with dark humor.

Wizard Potter then began rattling off the detailed locations of both Paetyr's extensive ledgers tracking all of his business dealings, as well as his hiding places for all of the wealth he had accumulated that he didn't want anyone to know about. In Harry's mind, Littlefinger would soon be dead and rather than leave all his wealth around to be discovered by whatever scavengers showed up to pick at the remains of his mercantile empire, it should return with them.

Baelish had hurt the Vale with his scheming, and he would be paying reparations as well as receiving justice for his crimes. The mismanaged Crownlands were not his concern, and he felt no responsibility to the feckless king and adulterous queen. Maybe if he encountered the new Hand before they left he might consider turning over copies of the ledgers to Lord Stark. But thinking again, with the Lannisters already on the brink of war with the Starks it might be more prudent to urge Eddard to get the hell out of King's Landing before anymore of his retinue or family were killed by a queen who had already successfully conspired the death of one Hand of the King.

"Well good men, I believe my work for tonight is done. Tell Ser Hardyng to leave Pycelle to me. The man might have arcane arts at his disposal that an inexperienced knight would not be able to counter. The capital is much more dangerous right now than any of you realize. Get the ledgers and gold quickly. I'd also have those returning to the Vale on this galley soon. And be ready for a fight, Baelish had a small army of toughs, brigands, and sellswords guarding his affairs. Going out in just pairs is asking for an ambush and a quick death. You've been lucky so far, don't let it fool you into believing you are safe," he cautioned.

With that final admonishment, Harry closed his eyes and set off a strong Lumos Maxima area effect charm temporarily blinding everyone. He apparated within the room again and while the other occupants of the room were rubbing their eyes and trying to cautiously open them Harry cast his strongest Finite Incantatum area dispelling charm. After years of hurriedly stopping multiple simultaneous household charms to avoid discovery he was well used to the large drain on his mana. His conjured earth and what had been transfigured from it dissipated into nothing as his glamour and alterations to his tabard also reverted.

Harry pretended to get to his feet and to his great amusement questioned the captain and guards on what had happened. Their theories and explanations surrounding his wizard alter ego were quite amusing though Harry had to school his features to hide the genuine mirth his successful deception brought him. He appreciated the Captain taking the situation seriously and making preparations for a quick exit as well as possibly being boarded. While the men-at-arms were quite suspicious of gifts from a magic user, Harry succeeded in getting them focused on their duty which was guarding the prisoner and the ship. All agreed to make no mention of the wizard, lest they be thought insane. Knowing tomorrow would be especially long, he quickly gathered his escort and returned to the inn.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: When Harry Met Sansa

Before venturing out the next morning, Ser Harold sent his men in squads of four to hurry up those Valemen that would be returning with them to Gulltown. He encouraged them to not display their Arryn sigils openly but have them on their person as they helped the loyal smallfolk carry or sell their possessions. The latest estimate was that thirty three former servants of House Arryn were planning on joining them, making it lucky that his armsmen and Captain Nerris had sold all of the goods they were intending to sell in Tyrosh. That space would be needed to house passengers and increased foodstuffs for the journey back to Gulltown.

Harry and Willum, dressed for training at the Red Keep, made their way to the Royce townhouse for another breakfast. On his early morning walk to Aegon's High Hill, Harry took the opportunity to revise his plans. He had not realized how many mercenaries and corrupt gold cloak officers, not to mention all the merchants and bureaucrats, that Paetyr had placed in their positions. The young wizard assumed many of them would be somewhat loyal to him, or at least his continued patronage, bribes, or silence about their secrets.

He therefore wanted to grab the accumulated wealth Littlefinger had hidden away at the last possible moment. The same with arresting Maester Pycelle. Doing either would likely kick up an additional hornet's nest to the one he had already knocked loose by making Paetyr disappear. So while his men were stuck dealing with the relatively safe business of relocating servants he would refrain from stirring this cesspool of violence and intrigue any further. Harry felt today should be about getting his cover story out, and genuinely entertaining the maidens at court. One of which could become his future lady wife.

Harry, wearing his plate armor today, started doing some drills with mace and shield as well as working on the pike and spear which his travels with the sellswords had shown him were key weapons for any soldier to know. Lord Royce, Robyr, and Willum all listened as he described the formations and techniques that he had observed used by and against the Windblown company. Yohn was impressed and by his passive reads felt a bit beholden to him for providing him and his men-at-arms some new skills and strategies to hone.

Feeling this the perfect time to place Willum safely with his grandfather, Harry let the Lord know that the following day he may be entering some danger, vaguely referencing dealing with businesses that Lord Jon had invested in which were no longer responding to Steward Royce's requests for dividends or reports in the wake of Lord Jon's death. Just a hint that he was also in the market for meeting the prospective future Lady Hardyng and the Bronze Yohn volunteered to spend some quality time with his grandson while encouraging Harry to join Robyr at the lists.

The late morning was a juxtaposition of humbling lessons in the joust, a form of combat that his switching of shield arms severely disadvantaged him, and enjoyable flirtations with the small crowd of female observers. The proximity of the training lists to the Godswood and the Royal Gardens saw a steady stream of young maidens and their chaperones. Ser Robyr was a good host, both in critiquing his jousting form and introducing him to available young women. Robyr the Red seemed equally interested in the chaste potential 'future wives' and the easily beddable 'jousting fans'.

Harry also got to meet a few Crownland knights like Lord Lothar Mallery. He was most impressed by Ser Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven in the Stormlands. The tall but lithe blond, dubbed the Lightning Lord with a Dayne as his squire and betrothed to another, Harry bore the brunt of his jousting prowess while being impressed with the way he carried himself. Talking with the level headed but friendly Lord also brought Harry's attention to Ser Beric's young and not-so-secret admirer. Beside the besotted young maiden of House Cassel of the North was a redhead of exceptional beauty despite her youth. Seeing that his new knightly acquaintance was uncomfortable under this unwanted scrutiny, and eager himself to chat up her blue-eyed friend he gallantly invited the duo to a walk in the royal gardens.

He was treated to an unspoken thanks from Ser Beric while Ser Robyr was quite amused by his obvious fixation. Laughing at a joke only he was aware of, Robyr reminded Harry to be on his best behavior and wished him well. The three of them entered the gardens with the two adolescent ladies taking off at a jog so they could escape from the watchful eyes of their Septa and Stark escort who were still watching the jousting. Harry, easily able to keep up with the pace they set in their long dresses, fell back and subtly drew his wand to cast cleaning charms on himself and his armor. He was enjoying this moment of frivolity amidst his incredibly serious mission.

They spent a good hour wandering about the gardens, pausing occasionally at benches for Harry to be peppered with questions by Beth about Lord Dandarrion. Harry learned the gorgeous if precocious fire haired teen was Sansa Stark, eldest daughter of the Hand of the King. She was much more reserved than her boisterous companion but flirted quite well when Harry made the attempt to draw her out. Harry started to think that this girl might be worth pursuing by he and Kara. Unfortunately both girls seemed to suffer from ridiculous notions about knights and courtly love. But they were pretty enough that Harry didn't mind weathering their giggles and inside jokes. In a way it made him nostalgic for his foster sisters that he'd barely been able to visit with since returning to Westeros.

Despite sending quite a few demure but sultry eyes and blushes Harry's way, Sansa finally revealed forty five minutes into their stroll that she was betrothed to the Crown Prince Joffrey. For Harry that was the end of his idyllic walk. Knowing what he did about Joffrey's incestuous origins and the growing conflict between the Starks and Lannisters he was taken aback by Sansa's ignorance and naivety in regards to her betrothal. In retrospect, he over reacted seeing as she couldn't possibly know Joffrey was a bastard born of incest.

"Are you sure you are still engaged?" Harry asked trying to back his way into laying some hard truths onto Sansa and Beth. He was starting to recognize that their willingness to run off with him was a sign of their ignorance of the dangers lurking in the Red Keep.

"And why wouldn't I be? He is as handsome as ever. And a perfect knight in training. When we marry we will have the most handsome princely sons and golden haired daughters. You sound jealous Ser Harold." She was starting to grow uncomfortable with the subject of conversation, while her friend Beth seemed oblivious to subtext.

"Well, for one your mother arrested his uncle Tyrion and charge him with murder. Then his other Uncle Jaime attacked your father and slaughtered a bunch of the Stark men-at-arms. I mean I haven't even seen your Lord Father leave the Tower of the Hand because he was injured by a Lannister red cloak. I highly doubt you will marry Joffrey if his house is at war with yours," he reasoned.

"Joffrey isn't a Lannister he's a Baratheon, and King Robert won't let there be any fighting. Besides, the Queen likes me very much. She said she would make sure nothing got in the way of her son having the wife that he wanted," she argued smugly.

"You are meeting with the Queen, without your Lord Father present?" he asked in shocked horror. It was as if this girl was living in a dream were nothing bad happened and her wishes always came true.

"Of course. I am to be queen one day. I must learn all I can from the current one, who is to be my mother by law once I and the golden prince Joffrey are wed." She and Beth looked at him as if he were slow for questioning something so obvious. Then she sighed dramatically, probably imaging her royal wedding day if he had to guess.

"Sansa, you must not do that any more. In fact, you shouldn't have run off with me. King's Landing is dangerous, and the most dangerous people for you are any with even tenuous connection to House Lannister. Especially the Prince and the Queen. You should always stay with House Stark men-at-arms. Since you seem to lack any interest in self-preservation you should allow more experienced supporters of your house keep you safe." Harry had barely restrained the urge to shake her and his reading of the two teenagers showed they were starting to grow upset with him in turn.

"Who are you to tell me I need protection from my future husband's family?" She struck her most haughty pose, but it came off as childish.

"I would like to know that as well," questioned a hulking plate-armored new arrival. He bore a tabard with the three headed hound of House Clegane and his stringy long brown hair couldn't hide his badly scarred face. "I think the Prince would be most interested to know who is sticking his nose into matters that don't concern him." He spat at Harry's feet, adding a direct challenge to his apparently half-hearted defense of the prince.

Not too concerned about Sandor the Hound with his wand strapped to his wrist Harry responded with a disinterest that matched the accomplished soldier. "I am Harold Hardyng, heir to House Arryn and the Vale. And before you interrupted I was admonishing miss Stark on her willful obtuseness. Like a silly little girl, she is ignoring the almost open conflict between her house and House Lannister."

"What is worse, she is delusional. She cloaks herself in courtesy and manners and think them impenetrable armor. I am a gentleman and a knight, but you two could not have known that when you wandered off with me. Were I a rapist I could have already taken both your maidenheads. If I was a red cloak that wanted to hurt the Starks even without an order, I could have slit your throats or maimed you and nothing would have prevented me from doing so. If the Queen or Tywinn Lannister or Prince Joffrey felt injured Lord Stark would be more easily controlled if his daughter was their hostage, like Tyrion is even now, would you hesitate at all to snatch them up and hold them prisoner if that was ordered?" he questioned the Hound.

Sandor Clegane paused for a minute then gave both Sansa and Beth a vicious smile made even more so by his burned face. "Not even for a second. I've told you this before little bird about soldiers and knights, but it seems you still just chirp on command. Now... Joffrey wanted me to find you so you could watch him practice arms with the Kingsguard. It is not a request." Sansa stilled and shuddered slightly while Beth scowled at the Hound speaking to them like this or perhaps for his tacit agreement with Harry.

"I'm sorry master Clegane, but I cannot in good conscience let you take them after I've just stated the possibility of them becoming hostages. I will escort them to the Tower of the Hand, and you can give the Stark men-at-arms Joffrey's order for his betrothed to watch him train. If the prince asks, please reassure him that I have no interest in his betrothed. I was unaware of their engagement when we first met. Regardless I thought I was chatting with eligible young women, but it seems I wasted my time with little girls putting on airs." Reading the two girls as he spoke, he realized his words were felt quite harshly, especially by Sansa.

"And what if I protest you escorting these girls anywhere? Your prince commands their presence and as his sworn shield I am obliged to see his commands realized." Though his words were confrontational, Sandor continued to act completely disinterested in the situation.

"That would be quite foolish. Not only is there little guarantee you would actually best me here, but doing so would have repercussions. I highly doubt the Lannisters want to add the Arryns to the growing list of enemies they are making. The North and the Riverlands should be enough for you Westerlanders." Harry then rested his hand on the pommel of his long sword, wishing he had a shield. He did not want to fight the Hound right now, so did his best to stare the man down.

In the end the Hound just shrugged and strode off. Harry motioned to the two girls that were suddenly timid being so close to witnessing actual combat rather than the training or exhibitions they were used to. Harry did apologize for his harsh words, which he felt brought incredible relief to both girls. But when Beth asked if he made up what he said just for the Hound, Harry had to dash their hopes again. He believed everything he said, he just wouldn't have normally said such harsh words or spoke at all if the situation weren't so dire. Just before exiting the garden he told Sansa that he had a message to pass onto for her father from the Vale and that she must let her father's armsmen know he would be coming to speak with the Hand after dinner tonight.

After a bit of searching he found Ser Robyr heading out with a group of unwed knights and lords to a tavern close to the Red Keep. He spent an enjoyable afternoon with the young knights and some of their select men-at-arms. In their group the most notable were Lord Renly Baratheon and Ser Loras Tyrell, a slight young man with golden curls and fashionably expensive clothes. He received some good natured ribbing from those two for not changing out of his armor into something more comfortable and stylish, but despite his desire to have a little fun, he couldn't completely let his guard down after nearly ending up in a fight with a Lannister vassal.

He did enjoy entertaining some of the most beautiful smallfolk maidens of King's Landing. They flocked to this tavern because of how frequently it was full of young lordlings throwing about silver for free drinks and possibly more expensive gifts if they could encourage a young man to court them. While skillfully flirting with his own few admirers he couldn't help picturing this same situation in a tavern of Moon Gate town with he and Kara searching for a likely and open minded young woman to join them for some fun. When Renly led most of their group back for a feast in the Queen's Ballroom, Harry had to work hard at persuading Ser Robyr to have dinner with him in the tavern instead.

Harry did not want to face whatever tales Sansa, Beth, or Sandor might tell about his midday conversation. He couldn't afford a confrontation with any of the royal court. He would speak with Lord Stark tonight, and then question King Robert in the morning about the dagger. Both would be quick in and out trips followed by running about the city collecting servants and then Littlefinger's gold. If anyone wanted to have words with him, he wanted to stay as elusive and unpredictable as possible so he could avoid any of the dangerous intrigues now circulating through King's Landing. Except his own of course.

At times in the tavern and then clearly upon exiting to head to the Royce's town home his passive legilimency picked up the thoughts of someone watching him. Harry assumed it must be an informer for the Master of Whispers or else there on Littlefinger or the Queen's behalf. If he were in her position he would be keeping tabs on anyone from the Vale with a connection to Lord Jon. There may even be more than one spy keeping an eye on him. He didn't want to reveal that he knew he was being watched, nor clue Ser Robyr onto the surveillance. So he pushed down on the urge to cast his stealth spells, double back, and force the silent watcher(s) to reveal themselves.

HP - aSoIaF

Wary of anyone tracking him on his way to the Hand of the King, Harry opted to ward his guest room at the Royces' and Apparate to the transportation key in the dragon skull store room. He applied his stealth charms, taking on the guise of a shadow with silent steps and masked scent. Harry traveled quickly through the Traitor's Walk Tower and took the opportunity to observe the nightly patrols of gold and red cloaks around the walls and bailey of the Red Keep. After noting the lack of attention paid to the Rookery he made his way to the Tower of the Hand.

He briefly considered using magic to go directly to Lord Stark as Wizard Potter, but decided his previous statements to Sansa about Ser Harry visiting the Hand precluded the Wizard of the Vale from making an appearance. He was hoping to keep any connections between the two to a bare minimum. So in the last shadow before the reinforced Ironoak door of the massive semi-keep he cancelled his spells and approached the threshold. He was challenged by Stark men-at-arms through arrow slits that bracketed the door and after relating that he bore word from Lady Stark for her husband they reluctantly allowed him entry.

Harry was relieved of his sword and dagger, and then escorted to the top floor solar where the injured Hand was just settling himself after hobbling to the office from his personal suite. While Eddard Stark was a renowned warrior from both Robert's and the Greyjoy rebellions, with a heavily bandaged thigh he seemed less formidable. The Warden of the North had black hair with streaks of grey and hard grey eyes. After a brief grimace of pain from situating his leg he affected a stoic countenance.

"My daughter told me a Ser Harold planned to see me about a matter of importance. Sansa was quite disparaging about the manner in which you spoke to her. A letter from my wife, recently arrived by raven from the Eyrie, suggests you are a very capable young knight that is unfortunately no friend to Lysa Arryn nee Tully my good sister. And that you may be a friend to the Lannisters, as well as the heir to House Arryn. She hinted to me there were matters involving her arrest of Lord Tyrion that she could not risk in a letter. What word do you bring from my wife?" questioned Lord Stark.

"No words other than wishes for you and your daughters safety. I told that to your guards as a pretense, for the eyes and ears that keep watch on your tower. I left the Vale to apprehend Lord Jon's true murderer. If Lady Stark did not make it clear in her letter, let me inform you now that Tyrion Lannister did not try to kill your son Bran nor succeed in poisoning the former Hand of the King," he corrected.

As Harry gathered himself to provide the warnings he had come to the Hand to relate, Eddard spoke first, "Who did kill my foster father? And what of Bran's assassin?" Harry frowned, he did not trust the honorable Lord of Winterfell to deal appropriately with the information he had gained from Baelish. Not yet anyway, especially after meeting his seemingly air headed daughter.

"I do not know yet who wishes your son an early death. I am still investigating those crimes. The culprits in the former Hand's murder have been discovered. Justice will be carried out in the Vale, not King's Landing so I will not discuss the perpetrators with you. In fact I came this night to warn you to stop looking into it. To urge you to publicly distance yourself from any investigations and profess your apologies for your wife's false accusations. I would not see another Hand, a longtime ally of the Vale, murdered in the capital. This place is ill-suited to Starks and even if it is in bad taste I ask you to guard against the fate of your father and brother." Harry grimaced bringing up such a troubling subject, but he hoped it would convey his worries.

"Do not speak of things that happened while you were still nursing!" He spit out, angry but cold and focused in his intensity rather than bursting with emotion. "If you know who killed Jon I would know it from you now, consider this an order from the Hand of the King."

Harry sighed. In thinking through what to share with Eddard he always knew such a command was possible. It was unfortunate it occurred so early in their conversation. He was prepared though to match words with the straight forward Lord.

"Who rules the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Stark?" he asked, ignoring the Hand's command.

"I will not allow you to dodge my questions, Ser Hardyng. Must you be imprisoned to see reason," Eddard countered.

Harry laughed. "Reason is exactly why I asked that question. Please Lord Stark just bare with me for a moment and answer my question. It is important that we are both on the same page before discussing what you want to know."

"If mincing words will speed your tongue then I will do it. King Robert Baratheon rules the Seven Kingdoms as even children taking their first lessons know."

"After living my life in the Vale, traveling the major city states across the Narrow Sea, and briefly observing King's Landing I must disagree. I agree as far as the trappings and ceremony involved with ruling, King Robert sits the Iron Throne. But he does not personally wield the three tools of power: gold, information, and soldiers. Please let me make my point, it is important for you to hear this, I believe." Harry waited for the agitated Northman to wave for him to continue.

"The Lord Paramounts rule six of the seven kingdoms, with widely varying levels of success and support from their sworn houses. So technically King Robert only rules the Crownlands, although his brother Stannis actually commands the loyalty of half of the region's sworn houses. The rest of this kingdom's military might is outfitted, selected, and paid through the Master of Coin and his consortium of merchant families which truly control the revenue of the Crownlands."

"Of the troops garrisoned in or near King's Landing, a third owe their position and allegiance to Lord Littlefinger regardless of their vows. Those third also happen to be the highest ranking officers in the city watch mind you. A quarter of the gold cloaks are firmly in the pocket of the Lannisters through either Queen Cersei or her father. The Lannisters also have the largest force of trained armsmen in the Crownlands and have seen to the majority of training for the rest of the soldiers in the region since Robert's Rebellion. I suspect there a probably quite a few gold cloaks enriching themselves from both Baelish and the Lannisters as long as the two don't send any conflicting orders." This was all information he had taken from Paetyr's mind but he couldn't argue with the man's understanding of the situation.

"But everyone you've stated has sworn fealty to Robert, he commands them and they in turn see his orders carried out. I fail to see how any of this has anything to do with telling me who killed Jon." Ned interjected.

Ignoring the interruption, Harry continued, "That is not even counting all of the sellswords and hedge knights that can be called upon by those with large amounts of gold such as Lord Baelish, House Tyrell, or House Lannister. Were war to break out tomorrow between House Stark and House Lannister, King Robert has almost no troops at his immediate disposal to come to your aid, if he were willing to side with you against his wife. Even were he to support you he would be reliant on his brothers and Master of Coin to raise their men-at-arms and knights on his behalf. And let's be honest, that house war could be inevitable even now thanks to the rash actions of your wife and the Kingslayer. If Jaime is raiding the Riverlands or in the North, you will not let it go as you have his murdering of your armsmen, nor will Lord Tywin back down from protecting his two sons."

"All of which can be smoothed over by King Robert. You are painting the King as powerless when his commands are anything but. He also has the Kingsguard, the foremost knights in the realm, to lead his armies and protect him."

"As the Kingslayer is? And if Robert weren't around to give the order? Perhaps events might be timed so the king is out hunting, or if he suddenly takes ill as Lord Jon did. He is not a healthy man nor is he cautious enough about his safety. It is a slender thread to weigh you and your daughters safety on," Harry countered.

"Is that a threat?" he questioned with implied menace.

"What? Lord Stark, I am trying to illustrate the trap you have wandered into, not create conflict. My point is that you are vulnerable here, surrounded by potential enemies. If you were needed to protect your House, the North, or your alliance with the Tullys, being here in the Tower of the Hand with a shrinking contingent of men-at-arms is the worst place for you to conduct your affairs. Especially with the King having conflicting loyalties between your friendship and the... _mother_ of his children. So I am warning you to do whatever you can to stay safe and be prepared to escape the capital if events turn against you." Harry had to suppress a shudder when mentioning Cersei. He hoped his reasonable tone was helping his cause and that his stumbling over the lie hadn't made things worse.

"Part of staying safe is not discovering any secrets and plots that the ruthless and dishonorable schemers of King's Landing would kill for. Lord Jon's killers cannot be dealt with here because they are too strong in the capital. Only when removed from their power base, in the Vale, can justice be carried out. And secrets revealed. If exposed to a wide enough audience, they cannot be denied or swept aside with gold, valyrian daggers, or threats. I am taking care of that. I came to you to tell you this so you could stop antagonizing your enemies and make preparations for your defense and a tactical retreat if necessary." Harry had stood and begun to pace and gesticulate as he pleaded.

"You speak as if war is inevitable. That Robert will die any day. I am no coward to shy away from harsh truths, speak plainly and let me make my own decisions." He stared intensely at Harry, almost willing him to spill his secrets. If Eddard were a wizard Harry would be scrambling to make sure his occlumency shields hadn't been breached.

"And you speak as if you are in a position to do anything about it. You tried resigning and were denied. You don't directly control the crown's gold, nor any soldiers that you didn't bring with you. To me, giving you this information is like signing your death warrant and likely the King's as well. Not knowing keeps you safe. If you will not listen to my warnings at least be prudent and shore up your defenses. Send your daughters away before they become hostages," he pleaded.

"I cannot send Sansa away, she is betrothed to Joffrey as you well know." His face betrayed no emotion. But Harry's passive reading suggested some regret from Lord Stark about the betrothal.

"Yes Sansa...Are you aware the Queen is steadily working on your daughter to turn her against her family. If she were forced to choose between loyalty to you and her golden prince I think she might choose the Lannisters. At the least, everything that is done or spoken of in your household is being diligently related to the Queen by Sansa. She is so naive to the maneuverings of the cunning liars in the Red Keep that she is a danger to not only herself but your entire household. Say the word and I will take both she and Arya with me to their mother in the Eyrie. I swear to see all three safely to your port in White Harbor."

"I would sooner crush her dreams as trust you with her safety. Speak no more ill words about my daughter after only one encounter." Lord Stark began to rise, perhaps to more effectively threaten Ser Hardyng but a twinge from his injury made him think better of it and readjust in his seat.

"So it isn't only her that is painfully naive. Just see that in pursuing her fantasies with complete disregard for reality that she does not become the next Lyanna Stark, the cause of bloodshed and war. Did she tell you that after running off with a complete stranger that the person she next encountered was the Hound. This is the sense your maiden daughter shows, to end up nearly alone in the company of a Clegane. Tell me again that she is just fine as she is. I am forced to avoid the royal court for the rest of my stay since I am sure she will have told the Queen that I said she wasn't safe around Lannisters."

"You have said your warnings and though a childless boy critiqued my parenting. Now do as commanded and tell me Lord Jon's murderer."

"What if I were to say that it was the Queen? Or Stannis Baratheon? Or Olanna Tyrell? Oberyn Martell? Perhaps the Citadel in Oldtown or the Iron Bank? Would you finally listen to me that it isn't safe to know. There are more spies in this city than the rest of the Seven Kingdoms combined. If you know, you will react, and when you do the powerful adversaries that are spying on you even now, including your unwitting daughter, will know soon after. I will not do it." Harry dropped to his seat and crossed his arms in front of him.

"Then you leave me little choice. I must hold you until you relent." They stared at each other for close to a minute without budging. "Just tell me. I can help see justice done. I do have power as does my good friend the King." As Eddard tried to coax Harry into giving in the young wizard just sighed and shook his head.

"I think this might be a good time to mention the recent arrival of an ally to House Arryn, of which I am the heir. He revealed himself to me on my first day in King's Landing. Due to some debt he feels he owes my house, he has committed to ensuring my success. He calls himself Wizard Potter, and from the little I have seen he is a practitioner of the sorceror's arts of the highest order." Almost immediately Harry regretted speaking, cursing his ill thought out attempt to avoid being arrested. Not seeing anyway to back track he soldiered on, hoping to at least start the separation of him and Potter in the publics' mind.

"He told me of a potion of his design that could heal your wound over night, and I'd imagine he would be willing to provide it to you for my release. If you were to hold me here tonight, I am quite sure he will waltz through your defenses and remove me from your prison so I can continue on my mission. Know that holding me will only help Lord Jon's killers escape justice. And with the wizard's aid, I am confident you will not be able to keep me prisoner regardless. So I have spoken all that I will. Let me go this night or be amazed as I miraculously disappear come morning," he said flippantly with a hint of annoyance.

Lord Stark looked intently at him, from a passive read the Northern lord was trying to figure out if that last speech had been a jest. When it became clear that Ser Hardyng was not joking, the disbelieving Hand had his men escort Harry to an austere room with a heavy bar on the outside. Harry didn't protest Lord Stark's decision, but instead cautioned the Lord to keep his place in the Tower secret. That way when he escaped and his predictions came true, the Starks might still find an ally in the Vale. He even offered himself as a replacement for Joffrey to betroth Sansa if war broke out. And if his daughter ever grew out of her childish fancies.

Given a jug of water, stew, and bread before being locked into the barred room, Harry wasn't concerned. His wand holster had a Muggle Repelling runic array that he charged each morning and evening since his first trip beyond Ironoaks. He checked his dinner for poisons, not really expecting to find any, and then placed it under a stasis charm so he could break his fast in the early morning hours. He then called for the Grimoire to portkey to his cell. Entering the interactive study Harry discussed his upcoming tasks with the knowledgeable book who as usual wore the guise of Archmage Potter.

They first studied runic patterns that were designed to hold magic users. This was not the first time they had studied the subject, but this time was more detailed oriented than their past theoretical discussions. Harry only carried enough sleeping draught for three days. It would not be enough to hold Pycelle if he had any powerful abilities at his disposal. Without the advanced knowledge of arithmancy, rituals, and charms that would be needed to enchant magic suppressing cuffs, they decided on acquiring and shaping iron manacles etched with a simple runic array.

The Grimoire showed him an array that served no useful function but would constantly absorb and disperse mana as well as other magical or spiritual energies that humans could utilize for spells or rituals. The cuffs wouldn't have a noticeable effect at first but three days of funneling Pycelle's powers into ambient mana would surely leave the man incapable of doing anything useful. If he even had abilities he could summon while bound and gagged.

After studying the runic array as well as methods to set runes into metals from the Grimoire's reference materials, Harry applied his Potter disguise and used transfiguration to open a hole in the door so he could lift the bar. The two Stark men-at-arms guarding his cell investigated the noise and were hit with Stupefy hexes and Obliviation curses. Using stealth charms he searched the tower for his weapons, items made from iron to rework into the siphoning cuffs, and finally a sturdy wood block to etch a transportation key into. Once he had collected everything he resealed his cell. He continued reading and working out steps to take until the stunning spell wore off, and the guards frantically opened his door. It was difficult to stifle his laughs at their sighs of relief that he was still there after apparently falling asleep on the job.

It took him roughly an hour to transfigure molds for the cuffs and use the Incendio charm to melt down the iron tools. Reshaping them into manacles and etching the runic array while they cooled was a challenge primarily to avoid splattering red hot metal droplets around the room or on himself. He finished his latest transportation key, which he would be leaving with Willum in the morning when he returned to his room. He then transfigured his cot into a much more comfortable bed which would revert in a few hours and serve as wake up call.

As he worked and plotted his next moves Harry wondered if he should have bothered trying to help the Hand. With his imprisonment it seemed unlikely the Lord would heed his warnings. He was also concerned about not informing the experienced Lord Paramount that he would soon be taking a sizeable chunk from his small council. The unruly-black haired wizard was convinced that alerting Eddard to the adultery and incest of the Queen would surely have been deadly for both the Hand and the King. They might also take many of the Lannisters with them as well depending on the loyalty of the remaining Kingsguard and how quickly Renly or Stannis could get involved.

Harold still had hopes of releasing Tyrion, blaming everything on Lysa, Baelish, and Pycelle and then hoping the Seven Kingdoms could enjoy a few more years of peace while he consolidated his position in the Vale. It was also his hope that despite his initial impression of Joffrey the boy could be, at the least, a halfway decent king. But who could know the future, other than true seers of course. Eager for sleep, which would be difficult to arrange until his galley set sail for Gulltown, Harry drifted off in the late evening.

HP - aSoIaF

While breaking his fast on the meager fare provided him the previous night, Harry wondered why he had offered a betrothal with Sansa to the Stark head of house the previous night. True, they did have some physical chemistry while flirting, and as the daughter of a Lord Paramount her hand in marriage would earn the Vale a powerful ally. Yet he thought the girl a fool however beautiful she was, and his plans to try and avert war between kingdoms would require her to marry the snooty looking bastard Joffrey. Harry was also worried it would cause him greater problems with the Queen, perhaps moving her from suspicion of him to outright enmity. Since he couldn't change the past, yet, he would just have to deal with whatever consequences resulted.

Finishing up his breakfast, he felt it high time to get along with his day. Setting his bowl down he filled it with conjured water before transfiguring the water into a sack. Shrinking and lightening his Grimoire, the siphoning manacles, and the carved wooden apparition key he secured them in the transfigured pouch tied to his belt and glanced around the room one last time to ensure he wasn't leaving anything behind. Touching hands to his sheathed sword and the valyrian steel dagger, he made the brief wand movement to focus his magic and Disapparated to the now often used key in the depths of the Red Keep. He smiled imagining the shocked Starks responding to his departing crack and finding his cell empty.

Applying his most frequently used charms, a disillusioned knight made his way quickly to the Red Keep's bailey. From there he crept through the outer defenses and guards of Maegor's Holdfast, seeking the King's suite. Moving through closed doors did little to slow him as he quickly cast memory charms that saw guards ignore the brief moments of a barrier opening and closing seemingly on their own. Only twice did he need to manipulate locks with his magic to progress further. Finding a door several levels up guarded by two Kingsguard including Lord Commander Selmy, Harry knew he had reached his destination. He didn't want any to know of his questioning of the King after his disastrous run in with Sandor Clegane so this was to be a conversation that would be removed with a memory curse.

Tracking back to an empty guestroom on the same level he closed himself in. Throwing the windows open just as dawn began to shine over the castle's walls, Harry triggered his animagus transformation. Now a Vale Falcon, the young wizard flew out and around Maegor's Holdfast to the balcony of the King's suite. He took his time turning back, making sure all his possessions returned with him. Transforming to an animal only required his focus on his inner animal, automatically taking anything in contact with his skin into the new form. Reverting back required a bit more thought and he had lost a couple pairs of breaches to the void learning the skill, much to Kara's amusement. Placing an ear to the door he heard thunderous snores counter pointed by much smaller breath sounds. Wand at the ready he transfigured the lock into an open position then cracked open the door.

Inside he saw the massive King bracketed by two nude maidens, one of which he recognized from the tavern he had visited with the many lords and knights yesterday afternoon. He first cast an area effect Silencing hex that blanketed the room in an invisible field which barred sound waves to pass through it. This spell had a key difference from the Silencing charm, which merely created a barrier to sounds around a person or object, rather than a null field, as the Grimoire called it. He then quickly hit both women with the red mana bolts of Cavum Dormitatus, the sleeping hex. Less effective than stunning someone since they could be woken by pain as well as more taxing to cast, the spell was useful when one didn't want evidence that a spell had been cast at all.

He next hit the sleeping Baratheon with a Immobilus hex which woke up the large King put prevented him from reacting. Harry stepped into the room and silently cast the Morbilicorpus charm and hovered the frozen man out onto the balcony. As a teen wizard he could not yet produce most curses or area effect spells without vocalizing the incantations, and this certainly included the Legilimens curse. Out on the balcony with none alerted to his spell casting due to his silencing the royal suite, Harry dove into the king's mind. He brandished the dragon bone handled dagger and questioned the king on his knowledge of the expensive weapon.

Filtering through the temporary memories provided by the spell he received corroboration for Tyrion's story that the King won the blade from Lord Baelish during the crown prince's nameday tourney. The King remembered packing the knife and wearing it during the hunts that occurred during the trip to Winterfell. But while there it was lost to him. His memories were feeble things, lacking in detail, as in almost every one Harry reviewed the King was inebriated if not outright drunk. The king had no idea or clue as to when the blade actually disappeared. The green-eyed wizard cursed in frustration that he may never know who sent the assassin after Bran Stark.

Harry then couldn't resist the temptation to search out if the king was aware of his foster father's murder or his own cuckolding by the Queen. The great lout was oblivious to both, and so with a sigh Harry pulled his magical probe from the King's mind, resisting the urge to make some alterations that may turn the man into a worthy king. It could also make him psychotic or a vegetable, and with his relatively amateur status as a healer and practitioner of the mind arts, Harry left well enough alone.

He quickly levitated the paralyzed King back into the large indentation still present in his bed and cast an Oblivation curse to erase this assault from the King's mind. As the royal Baratheon's mind was reeling from the spell Harry hit him with a Cavum Dormitatus hex and then stepped back onto the balcony where he cast the counter spell to his Area Silencing hex. He briefly consider doing something similar with the Queen, but noises disturbed his planning. As he shut the balcony door he heard someone, likely the Kingsguard, enter the suite. Harry desperately went through his animagus transformation as he heard plate armored boots approaching the balcony as others moved about the King's bedroom.

He had just completed his change and with a jump and rapid flapping managed to stand on the balconies stone railing. Simultaneously Ser Mandon Moore stepped on the balcony to check for intruders after finding the door unlocked. Harry suspected the lack of the King's snores must have alerted them to check on Robert. The heavily tanned, clean shaven Ser Moore, last scion of the soon to be defunct House Moore was initially concerned that the door was not locked, before he noticed the falcon perched on the balcony sill.

"What in the seven hells are you doing here and not in the falconry. Get over here," the surprised white cloaked knight called out. He attempted to grab onto Harry, but the wizard turned falcon leapt into the air, beating his wings hard to gain altitude. After clearing bow range of even the gold cloaks patrolling the Red Keep's walls, Harry exalted in his flight over King's Landing as the dawning sun painted it in yellows and oranges. Up there, far from the smells and crowds the wizard found the scene to be majestic.

From this bird's eye view he noticed how truly massive the capitol city was. While the ground level showed it to be a cesspool, from the air he could see why the Targaryen's had chosen to build their seat of power on three hills near the mouth of Blackwater Bay. The land gradually rose, adding height to the already impressive walls, and their stronghold the Red Keep was truly awesome considered its size in comparison to the Eyrie, a fort constructed from an actual mountain peak, if only a small one. His eyes were also drawn to the large derelict facility known as the dragon pits. With the discovery that dragon bones were still magic rich, Harry would need to investigate any dragon related parts he could get his hands on. He also noticed the adjacent Alchemist Guildhall, home to the famous pyromancers among perhaps many other groups of chemists, scientists, and charlatans. Their Tower of Alchemy was another structure he would like to explore when he had less occupying his time.

Once he'd had his fun and thoroughly stretched his wings he focused his greatly augmented eye sight again on the buildings below. Spotting the Royce's town home he dived low at incredible speed, scaring nearby pigeons nearly to death. With some powerful back wings and a well planned trajectory he swooped to the window of his guest room and entered. Safe in his room Harry reverted to his natural state and dispelled the Muggle Repelling ward he'd cast last evening. It continued to be his most effective defense against discovery as it forced others to think of some reason or task to go elsewhere whenever it was encountered. After this trip he may need to learn something more substantial to protect his person and secrets.

Undressing to his small clothes he called his squire to aid him in preparing for the day. After the two of them took a quick meal of porridge they coaxed some of the Royce men-at-arms to escort him to the Falcon's Rest. Before leaving the Royce town home he gave the transportation key to Willum and ordered him to keep it uncovered and safe in the squire's guestroom until he told him otherwise. Willum was also to check it periodically in case the mysterious Wizard Potter used it to send messages. Then, knowing that he would eventually be raiding Baelish's secret stashes as well as potentially facing off against the Grand Maester, he had Willum put on his plate armor. He sent his squire back to spend the day with his grandfather as well as see that his belongings were packed and ready for transport to the galley on the morrow.

Harry wore no sigil, but attached gauntlets and helmet to his sword belt to join his dagger and long sword. He even secured his heater shield with his personal sigil flush to his back with a leather strap belted diagonally across his torso. The young knight had not liked how vulnerable he felt without it during the verbal confrontation with the Hound. The shield, in addition to being an integral part of much of his training was also what partially hid his wand from sight if he needed to cast in plain sight. Before leaving, Willum affixed a hood-less light blue cloak to his steel pauldrons with dual clasps designed for that purpose. The cloak was less for warmth than to obscure his shield and items affixed to his belt such as his potions and gold pouches. He bid his squire good day and assembled the Arryn men-at-arms after checking out from the inn.

Gardan had rented a larger wagon from a harbor merchant the previous day and the sixteen soldiers had already loaded their gear in it after receiving word from Ser Harry that they would be spending the night on the galley waiting to leave with the morning tide. The squad spent the rest of the morning ferrying the rest of the Vale folk from their homes to the ship. After eating a quick lunch in a tavern off the Fishmonger's square, Harry broke out the directions Captain Nerris had copied from 'Wizard Potter's' interrogation of Littlefinger.

It was a nerve wracking afternoon. The cunning Master of Coin had caches of gold and high value trade items stashed throughout the city. A few were in brothels as Harry guessed they would be. But just as many were buried beneath floor boards in homes or secret alcoves in businesses. As they progressed, and more and more wealth accumulated in their wagon. Harry also took note of the increasing number of watchers and thugs observing their actions. Yet at each stop, their numbers and high quality arms and armor served to cow any guards who wished to protest their collecting of Lord Baelish's 'stores' for transport.

They did run a foul of a group of gold cloaks that required a bribe and some aggressive threats before they were able to proceed. In reading the city watch sergeant with passive legilimency Harry determined this man was beholden to Baelish and was quite worried he would be punished for not stopping them from taking the cache he was guarding. Fortunately the man knew his squad would be massacred by the veteran men-at-arms, so with a clever lie tying this maneuver with Lord Baelish's disappearance, and backed up with threats and some gold to grease his palms, the sergeant caved. Harry strongly doubted their luck would last. He attributed the lack of confrontation to Baelish's penchant for secrecy, his highly compartmentalized organization, and the speed with which they were moving in their task.

By sunset they had completed the list and close to two hundred thousand gold dragons and an equal value of goods and jewels were stowed in the opposite end of the bilge from Paetyr's makeshift cell. Harry ate a simple meal of fish and grain with the first mate and squad sergeant Gardan while Ser Nerris organized the available soldiers into watches and refreshed them on their duties for defending the ship. Harry grabbed some of Baelish's ledgers and closeted himself alone in the captain's cabin. It was nearly time to orchestrate Wizard Potter's next adventure.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Escape from King's Landing

Harry was supposedly studying the collected ledgers detailing Littlefinger's entire financial network for any final opportunities presented by Baelish's capture. Instead he was reviewing Archmage Potter's notes on magical combat within the Grimoire. The extensive treatise discussed when to shield and what factors should decide which shield to use. There were indicators to look for in your opponent that were matched with combinations of jinxes, hexes, and curses. Some spells could be cast in quick succession based on their wand movements and mental visualizations or incantations. There was a section that indicated specific situations where larger scale spells or transfiguration should be used. He had read it all before and spent many nights in the Grimoire's realm and days in the woods surrounding Ironoaks practicing. Now in the cabin he was stringing together wand motions and flourishes to refresh his muscle memory and get used to the movements in plate mail, even dramatically lightened from activated runic arrays.

The teen wizard was still in his plate armor because he couldn't know what he might face. One of Potter's listed strategies called for him to transfigure debris into animalistic constructs and animate them to attack an opponent. If he could do something physical why couldn't an opponent. Pycelle might also manage to call soldiers to his defense. Best to be prepared for anything. When the moon had advanced far enough into the sky to indicate midnight, Harry set aside his Grimoire and began to prepare. He again went through the process of magically disguising himself with transfiguration and glamour. Harry also downed one of his alertness potions since his extremely long day had worn him down.

Heavily cloaked and apparently garbed in dragon hide with glowing curse green eyes and a lightning bolt scar, he next considered his route. He would teleport into the dragon bone room then sneak into the Rookery. If he got the jump on Pycelle then he would incapacitate him, search his mind, and then raid the Grand Maester quarters for anything useful. If he must fight the maester he would prefer to do it in privacy so Harry spelled a large bore fish hook into a portkey aligned with the key in the Red Keep's basement. With it's barb and curve it would stick to the maester's clothing or skin long enough for him to say the activation phrase.

He next pulled back the floor rug in the Captain's ship-width cabin until there was enough space for him to arrive with Pycelle. With practiced strokes from his newly claimed valyrian steel dagger (since he would not return it to the worthless king and it had no other rightful owner) he carved another key into the wood planks of the galley. Harry planned to leave the floor and the key uncovered. He would warn the Captain against entering the cabin until he returned. His last preparation was to prepare a crude method for Ser Nerris to alert him to any situations on the ship.

Harry felt a great urgency to flee the capital, as if their ship had a giant target on it. Corrupt gold cloaks could want to search it to confiscate Littlefinger's gold. It was also possible the many sellswords and hired strongmen that observed them collecting the accumulated wealth might also make a play for a hefty payday. Even ships from the Royal fleet might be set upon them by any number of power mongers who could see an angle. Ser Hardyng could even imagine Lord Stark arriving to reclaim him as a prisoner. So until Harry learned to enchant objects for his own purposes, he must use the versatile Tracking charm for rudimentary communication.

The charm, which gave it's caster a keen intuition about the direction needed to travel to find what was being tracked, had two variations. The first was for living beings, and Harry had used it quite frequently while hunting. The second form of the charm was to track inanimate objects. Both would provide this artificial sense of direction for up to twelve hours depending how much mana he forced into the spell. And most importantly for tonight, breaking or killing what was being tracked would break the charm.

So Harry placed the Indigatio charm on a blank sheet of parchment that should last eight hours. He called for Ser Nerris to be brought to his cabin in his fake gravelly voice. Then peaking his head out through the cracked door he told the captain that he, Wizard Potter, would be taking Ser Harold on a mission this night to retrieve one more prisoner. He gave the man the charmed page with the instruction to rip it if he should need either wizard or knight while they were away. If such a need occurred he was to leave a sailor with a message at the door to update them upon their arrival. None one was to enter the cabin until they returned or else die a most horrible death. Harry was starting to find humor in the nervous look everyone gave him when he made threats like that.

Harry then closed the door and cast the Colloportus charm, sealing the door into a solid wall. Casting yet another spell without even leaving the ship made Harry worry. He was still a growing wizard not yet at his full potential, and he had already tapped into a solid percentage of his magical reserves. He said a quick prayer to the Warrior that he would not find out what happens should he use up all his magic this night. Harry then disillusioned and silenced himself before disappearing with a crack.

HP - aSoIaF

Wizard Potter stood in the ground floor library of the Rookery. He had easily snuck to the four story tower abutted to a corner of the Red Keep's curtain wall. The lock was easily bypassed and upon entering he made his final preparations. He had disguised his heater shield of painted wood reinforced with alternating layers of hide with the Potter crest of rampant Phoenix over crossed swords on a golden field. It was now charmed feather weight while it's straps were transfigured snugly to his right forearm so he could grasp and manipulate his wand without infringement. He cast charms on himself to enhance his hearing and sense of smell then placed on his t-gapped Barbute helmet over the plate gorget. He wore that style helm instead of the Great Helm designed to be worn with his plate because it left his mouth and nose open for casting and smelling as well as did not block his peripheral vision as much as the heavier helm.

With wand in hand and the hook portkey grasped firmly in his plate gauntlet covered in a thin layer of faux dragon hide he climbed the stairs, quietly seeking out the maester. As he reached the third floor he entered a large circular room that took up the entire width of the tower. Opposite the door was a wooden ladder that rose up to a wooden structure that housed the raven cotes directly beneath the tower's roof. Though he had taken every precaution he could think of, the full unkindness was awake and raising a cacophony of caws and squawks that had woken Grand Maester Pycelle. Rubbing his eyes in his rich sleeping shift the man's long white hair and beard whipped around his startled face as he first noticed Harry's presence.

The startled Maester reacted quickly as Harry rushed across the room. Through some mechanism of shifting full body poses and an incantation he cast a spell, and seeing his actions Harry cast a Protego shield in response. The maester's first move seemed to encase his body in a glowing clear blue cover beneath his clothing while Harry's similarly hued transparent shield encompassed his heater shield as well as two feet beyond it's outer edge. Now that both knew that magic was to be the medium of conflict the Maester confidently asked his name and what he was doing sneaking into his tower.

"I am called Potter, and I am here to see you receive justice. You have broken your code as a healer for Lannister gold. I will not allow your crimes to continue on any longer," he declaimed gruffly. As Pycelle questioned what the hell he was going to do with a fish hook, Harry tossed the portkey lightly up before him then hit it with a Banishing charm. The hook hurtled towards Pycelle who scoffed that his Maegi armor couldn't be breached by such a feeble projectile. Harry smiled at his arrogance, as his hook snagged firmly to the man's night shift. Then he spoke the activation code. The shocked maester glowed a different blue for a second before spinning away into a teleportation portal.

Harry quickly drew his sword and apparated after the self-proclaimed Maegi hoping to use the dispersion feature of the teleportation keys to knock Pycelle to the ground. He was not disappointed as he reoriented himself to his new location and saw the maester sprawled out on his back six feet away. Laying on his back yet still maneuvering and chanting, Pycelle caused a sickly green arrow dripping acid to be conjured and streak toward Harry. He deflected the projectile away with a hurriedly recast Protego shield, surprised at the sudden assault. Luckily his magic reflecting shield held against the unknown spell and sent the acid arrow back towards the Maegi but above his prone form to collide with a dragon skull that proved resistant to whatever damage it was supposed to inflict.

The maester had not paused in his casting as Harry defended himself. As the armored wizard rushed to strike the now kneeling maester with the flat of his blade he seemed to be praying in High Valyrian. Harry's blade struck the white bearded maegi in the temple but reacted with his glowing blue aura as if it had struck a steel helmet. Pycelle reared back from the blow, but his prayers were answered as a cone of purple light surrounded him. Immediately it felt as if Harry was being effected by a powerful Notice-me-not charm. Knowing he was still in a fight and not wanting to be blind-sided with a spell he might not notice he dropped his shield charm and teleported across the room to gain space.

Pycelle used the lull to stand and chant and pose in a second prayer which bestowed upon him another bath of light that lingered over his head in a golden orb shaped halo. Harry recast the Disillusionment charm that he had used to sneak into the rookery. Now unable to clearly spot his opponent but having a general idea of his location due to the pop of his teleportation, Pycelle broke his purple ward and conjured a grease slick in the vicinity of Harry's location. The knighted wizard quickly cast a stunning hex to test the Maegi's shield against his spells rather than physical weapons.

Pycelle, moving quicker than Harry would have expected, and dove below his red mana bolt. Unfortunately in casting his spell he had shifted his platemail boots and was upended very jarringly on the slick viscous gel. As he tried to right himself and stand the Maester had already risen and conjured a dagger of flame as well as a palm sized orb of fire which he had cocked to throw as he slowly strode toward Harry. Surrounded by a flammable grease, the young wizard-knight was very worried about being set a flame and really testing the temperature control runes of his armor. So Harry, from a seated position, conjured a powerful jet of water and blasted the advancing maester.

His armor and halo seemed to shield him slightly from the impact but Pycelle's conjured flames were doused. Still trying to set Harry ablaze, the drenched maester cast a new spell which generated a cone of orange hued flames eight feet beyond his outstretched palm. The white-haired Maegi's movements and chanting were too slow though and now kneeling, the Wizard cast the Empyreus Obex shield at the outer edge of the grease slick, which blocked the path of the conjured flames with a barrier of even hotter blue flames, all while keeping a healthy gap beyond the flammable grease. As the cone of fire crashed against his free standing barrier it absorbed Pycelle's spell, growing even hotter and forcing the maester to step back from the barrier, buying even more time. Harry quickly transfigured the grease at his feat into a gritty stone slab which would give him purchase even with residual grease still clinging to his boot bottoms.

Stuck in position lest he slip again Harry took advantage of his ability to get spells off quicker than the elderly Maegi and snapped off two hexes and two jinxes in a combination as Pycelle cast his next spell. Pycelle was struck with three of the mana bolts and found himself unable to bend his knees and struck blind and silent. Harry meanwhile was dodging five whitish blue projectiles that pursued him with a mind of their own. When he succeeded in throwing up another Protego shield just before they struck him, three of the missiles dodged around his defense to strike him through his armor in his shoulder, side, and thigh. The two he did block rebounded across the room to strike a wall to no effect since trying to catch all of the magic missiles resulted in none of them being returned in their caster's direction.

Gritting his teeth over the three, inch deep narrow punctures, Harry continued to cast, paralyzing and deafening the beleaguered maester. He then cast one of his few first aid spells, Adligo Vulnero which closed the stab wounds without fixing the deeper damage. He sheathed his sword and retrieved a regeneration potion to finish his healing efforts in an hour or two. Next he transfigured a path through the grease to approach the nearly insensate Pycelle. Harry retrieved the siphoning manacles from the sack at his waist and affixed them to the incapacitated old man's hands and ankles. He took a few deep breaths to center himself and try to gauge his strength and mana reserves.

Harry definitely felt magically spent but his attention elixir was still in effect. He knew he would be ready to tackle any surprises that still might try to prevent him from leaving this dangerous city. It was time to skim Pycelle's mind just as he had done to Baelish to see what he should recover from the Rookery. Harry wasted a bit of mana figuring out that Pycelle's golden halo protected his mind even still. He counted himself lucky that his hexes were not similarly barred by this mind shield. It was resistant to his general dispelling, either requiring a specific counter or else the nature of the spell prevented tampering. Fortunately the protection faltered on its own after another ten minutes of waiting and Harry was able to dive in.

HP - aSoIaF

It had been two hours since Harry won his first magical duel, and he had been hard at work. After raiding Pycelle's mind for information on the Rookery, Harry had forced him to swallow the sleeping draught before hiding him behind a skull and under a conjured black sheet. He then climbed back up to the Rookery only to find the door wide open. He heard two red cloaked Lannister men-at-arms climbing the staircase ahead of him. In the stairwell he stunned the first man in the back, though his red hex seemed to diminish in passing through the soldiers steel breast plate.

The second man-at-arms, already alert from investigating the unlocked door and bothersome racket of the awakened ravens, leapt into action. He swung his broadsword down on Harry who had no drawn weapon other than his wand, since he hadn't expected to face anymore combat. Ser Hardyng was forced to shield with his wand arm while retreating back down the stairs, narrowly avoiding tripping on the soldier already sprawled on the steps at his feet.

The Lannister sworn sword was relentless, trying to bull rush Harry and prevent him from ever drawing a weapon to make it a fight. Once the black cloaked wizard made it back to the first floor landing he was able to draw his dagger while continuing to block the red cloak's aggressive slashes on his heater shield. Harry feinted with his dagger and the men-at-arms moved to block what he perceived as the greater threat. Instead Harry managed to snap off the Alerte Ascandere jinx which rocketed the soldier up in the air smashing his helmeted head against the wooden ceiling, though not hard enough to breach his helmet or break his neck.

Startled at the yellow bolt which defied logic as well as a head rattling blow to his pate, upon landing the shocked red cloak was not prepared for Harry's valyrian steel dagger to pierce his boiled leather gauntlet forcing him to drop his sword. Nor for the shield charge that set him on his ass. The green-eyed wizard, now with a second to think hit the armsmen with a stunning spell. He then cast animation charms on both soldiers' armor to walk them back out beyond the Rookery's front door. After countering the animation and judicious use of the Obliviation Curse followed by the Enervation counter-hex, Harry was able to shut and lock the Rookery and get on with the night's remaining business.

Approaching magical exhaustion but still alert thanks to his potion he refrained from casting as he went about with a rucksack found in the towers' second floor kitchen. He first loaded up the maester's herbs, potions, and elixirs. Most for alchemical study but one milky white serum would be integral to his plans, as it made people biddable and giddy without appearing impaired. A perfect combination to lead prisoners to spill all of their secrets in court or during an interrogation.

Next Harry filled the large potato sack with quite a few rare or obscure books and pamphlets that the Grand Maester had accumulated in his long years of serving Kings and now a Queen. Unfortunately none of them were the ancient works from Old Valyria that Pycelle had used to gain his arcane knowledge. Those were housed in strong and secret vaults in the Maester's Citadel in Oldtown. Harry would have to steal those secrets from the man's mind if he wanted to learn them. It was something he would need to discuss with the Grimoire, as the book had cautioned him away from learning non-wizard methods of magic as it would dilute his already limited time for study.

Finally Harry returned to Pycelle's personal quarters where he added a change of clothes and the maester's chains of his office. To throw people off the scent he also hid a travel chest and many clothes in the chute below the tower's third floor privy. To anyone investigating they might think Pycelle left of his own volition until the clog in the sewage was discovered. The room also contained the Grand Maester's desk where he read and filtered the many notes that traveled to the Red Keep by raven. Harry sat down at the desk and began reading, selecting an occasional a note to keep for himself that contained information regarding the Vale or the brewing conflict between well armed "brigands" and Riverland forces.

As he sifted through the everyday messages from the breadth of the Seven Kingdoms Harry felt very strongly that he was missing something important. It was the feeling of having an idea or word stuck at the tip of one's tongue and it would not go away despite his attempts to concentrate on the Kingdom's correspondence. And like a lightning bolt it finally hit him. He could no longer feel his tracking charm.

HP - aSoIaF

Harry was panicking just a bit. He was wracking his brain for how long it had been since he had last felt the location of the parchment aboard the Vale galley. He was also wondering what to do next. As well as cursing himself for not being more studious and working out a better form of distance communication than he had. After what felt like minutes but was probably only a few seconds, his Occlumency constructs kicked in and started to filter his rampant thoughts and emotions into his mental barriers, allowing him to focus on the problem at hand.

Harry was out of time at the Rookery, and probably King's Landing in general. He needed to determine what the exact situation was and then strategize how to get the Royces onto his ship and the galley sailing back to the Vale. So Harry threw the entire stack of missives into his loot sack, applied a cushioning charm to the bag, then spelled it into a portkey that would depart immediately no timer or activation phrase required. The black cloaked wizard then apparated to his white bearded prisoner in the dragon skull room.

Once there he took a second to reorient himself as well as note his mana reserves. His core had recovered somewhat in the hours he spent searching the Rookery so he felt up to another struggle on the galley if necessary. He hit the already cuffed and potioned Maester with a Feather-weight charm and hefted the wrinkled old traitor over his shoulder before casting another teleportation charm hurtling them both to the Captain's sealed cabin. He eased the manacled prisoner to floor and looked around the room.

Not wanting to deal with any questions he transfigured his conjured black sheet into a full body wrapping that completely hid Pycelle's identity but did leave his mouth and nose exposed less he suffocate. Noting the rucksack shoved against the Captain's bolted down bed, Harry cast the Alohamora counter-charm to his locking spell, transforming the solid wall back into it's original state.

He flung the door open revealing the ship's cook/quartermaster nervously pacing the narrow corridor that housed the first mates cabin on one side and the fighting sailors' cramped bunks on the other. At the sound of the door opening the short middle-aged seaman almost tripped on the locked hatch that led to the rowing sub level and the cargo space below. Quailing at his dangerous and magical appearance the crewman hurriedly spit out what was going on with the ship.

About forty five minutes ago the dawn watch had spotted eight long rowboats full of armed, leather-clad men using the Blackwater's current to rush their ship. Captain Nerris had attempted to rouse the oarsmen and raise anchor while his sailors and the Arryn men-at-arms readied the ship to be boarded as well as use the ships arsenal of scorpions and bows to drive off the pirates. Ser Nerris had gotten the ship prepared for a fight, but dragging the anchor along the river bed had slowed them enough for their attackers to get in range to throw boarding hooks.

Last he had heard, they were trying to keep distance between the attacking longships by rowing out into the bay. But despite them thinning the ranks against them, with more and more grappling hooks finding purchase, they wouldn't be able to escape. The First mate was also trying to signal for assistance from other ships at anchor but none would risk being boarded as well and were making a run for the bay ahead of them.

Harry stopped the now babbling crewman so he could think. Even with the crew joining his soldiers the numbers against them were too many. Since none of his forces were as crazy as the Ironborn to wear heavy metal armor on a ship, wooden kite shields and boiled leather would be their only defense and against similarly garbed opponents. Numbers would win out. Harry could easily step above and launch a few fireballs to end this attack, but that would reveal to the entire harbor that there was a magic user on board. Something like that would bring intense scrutiny that would likely result in them being boarded by the gold cloaks or the royal navy. And their high level prisoners revealed.

Since these attackers were after something on the ship, probably Baelish's gold, they would need to leave the ship intact less they sink what they wanted to steal. It was also likely that these men lacking banners would be mostly mercenaries and brigands, averse to risking their lives unnecessarily. With only a few real options open to him Harry quickly settled onto a plan.

"Go above immediately and tell Captain Nerris as well as Sergeant Gardan that I will soon return with Ser Harold as well as a sizable party of well armored knights that will cut through these pirates like the scum that they are. He is to inflict as much damage on them as possible, but once they get numbers aboard he is to stall them. Let them think he is considering surrendering. I also want the lower levels blocked off and locked. Keep the brigands on the deck. Even if he can't slow them with words, they are to guard the sterncastle and this hatch with their lives. Reinforcements will arrive in half an hour. Jump to it sailor," he yelled to get the man moving.

He then unlocked the hatch and called below for assistance. A few of the servants returning to the Vale responded telling him that the oarsmen were busy. Not knowing who he was but awed by his dramatic appearance they asked him what his commands were. He quickly levitated both shrouded Pycelle and the rucksack from the Rookery down to the passengers and commanded them to secure both in the bilge then aid the oarsmen in barricading the lower levels from attack. Harry then shut the hatch and cast the Colloportus charm once again sealing them below decks as long as the larger hatches surrounding the mast were shut and locked as well.

Harry then rushed back into the small galley adjacent to the First mates cabin and cast about for a likely object to make a bigger portkey. He spotted a mostly empty water barrel and with pinpoint precision shrunk the wooden slats leaving the metal hoops that bound the barrel to clatter to the ground. He grabbed the largest hoop and rushed back to Nerris's room. The wizard knew that the room was too small for his purposes so he cast the Space Expansion charm to expand the dimensions of the room two fold. It would only last an hour but he reasoned that he better be back before then anyway. It also was a big draw on his reserves, and he knew that he did not have many spells left in him. Then with great urgency Harry apparated to the key he had left with Willum Royce. Harry arrived in his squire's small room with a pop that woke the young man.

"Willum, there is no time to explain. I am the Wizard Potter that Ser Harold has mentioned. I will be brining him here shortly. You must rouse your grandfather's household immediately then return to receive instruction from Harold himself. Hurry now, we have no times to waste and lives are at stake." The boy, goggling at a wizard appearing mysteriously in his bedroom nodded emphatically before tossing his blanket aside and hopping out of his room yelling as he ran.

With the boy away Harry concentrated on the iron loop, turning it into a portkey to the now expanded Captains quarters. He next eyeballed the rug in his squire's guest room. It would fit in the cabin even after his expansion charm expired. Knowing that they would likely need to leave King's Landing with the dawn, he spelled the rug as a portkey on a two hour timer as well. He didn't want knowledge of password initiated portkeys to spread any further than needed. As soon as the spell left his wand he felt a fatigue he had never experienced and couldn't really locate in his body.

Harry could guess what this meant. His reserves were spent. But he needed one more spell and dispelled his Mage Potter disguise, leaving him there dressed as he had been throughout the day. Harry felt like he was running on fumes. His mind and muscles were still game if barely but that indefinable deep tiredness weighed him down. When it came time for battle he would need potions. He sat on Willum's bed waiting for Yohn and Robyr to arrive. They soon entered the room along with two armed men-at-arms and their squires.

"What is the meaning of this Ser? Barging into my house hours before dawn and waking us from slumber. Explain?" Lord Royce commanded.

"I apologize for the late or rather early hour. I hope you recognize my dire need to disturb you at such a time. I must confess I have not been entirely honest with you about the nature of my trip to the capital. I am not here to wrap up some of Lord Jon's business affairs nor to seek a maiden to court as I have suggested. Those were subterfuges to hide my real mission. To capture the conspirators which poisoned my great uncle Jon Arryn and return with them to the Eyrie for trial." There were gasps and dubious looks around the room in response to his revelation.

"Jon died of a sickness and old age. What is this talk of murder," asked Robyr.

"No! As Hand of the King he encountered a mystery that he could not set aside. It led to him discovering the secrets of dangerous and powerful people. Four had reason to end his life. One is held in the Eyrie. One is currently beyond my ability to capture. And two are held prisoner by my escort right now. It is those two that lead me here tonight."

"I found myself under attack by a larger force of sellswords and ruffians. An ally to my family brought me here to gather a relief force. Even as we speak my soldiers are fighting to defend their position. I call on you now as knights and men of the Vale to quickly arm yourself so we can crush these brigands that would thwart justice for our fallen Lord Jon. It is also my hope that you will join me in returning to the Vale on my ship to add your might as well as your renowned name to this cause Lord Royce, Ser Royce," he tiredly pleaded.

Bronze Yohn was a man of action and so sent his son and squires to ready their men as well as return with his own famous armor and weapons. But he was also an experienced ruler and noted the omissions in Ser Hardyng's plea. "I understand the urgency but there is more to tell. How did this ally get you to me when you were surrounded. And who are the prisoners? I must know this before I commit my family to your aid." Yohn narrowed his eyes and tried willing Harry to tell him what he wanted to know.

Harry understood, even expected questions. This was a critical moment for him. He needed Lord Royce as an ally not only tonight, but for a long time to come if he were to hold sway in the Vale of his forefathers. He opened his mouth to reveal his magic and found he could not speak the words. The Fidelius charm, how could he forget.

"The ally is a powerful wizard named Potter. He claims to owe a great debt to House Arryn but will not speak of how or when it was incurred. But his assistance has proven invaluable on this mission. Not only could he transport me through the ether from the battlefield to your house, but he entered the minds of the conspirators and ripped open their secrets. I did not believe at first that any of this was possible. But he led us to secret caches of evidence and stolen gold that guesses and mummer's tricks couldn't have found in a hundred years. And tonight I felt the touch of his magic personally in my trip here. His power is real, and for whatever his reasons, his aid is also real. I hope a Lord known for wearing ancient bronze armor stronger than any steel forged in Runestone would not deny the possibility of the supernatural?" Harry asked wryly, smiling a bit to relieve some of the tension that his passive read of Lord Royce were detecting.

Despite the commotion echoing through the house of scrambling servants, squires, and soldiers, Yohn Royce stroked his chin in thought. Even in his night clothes he bore an air of command. He finally nodded, decided Harry was telling him the truth. "And the prisoners? What sort of enemies will be made for House Royce come sunrise? They must be substantial if you've carried out your task in secrecy and incurred armed resistance."

"Yes, please, I ask that this stays between us until we are well on our way passed Dragonstone and the Royal Fleet that anchors there. In the Eyrie is the instrument of murder, Lysa Arryn nee Tully who loved outside her marriage bed and wouldn't allow her bastard son to be fostered away from her. In King's Landing I captured her lover and the plot's mastermind, who supplied the poison and orchestrated the deceptions that followed. The Master of Coin, Paetyr Baelish."

"As well, with great aid from Wizard Potter this night, we captured Grand Maester Pycelle who ensured Lord Jon's death when his personal Maester Colemon began to succeed in curing our liege lord. He played the role of healer while speeding his death and silencing him. All for gold and favors," he confessed with disgust.

"And the last, the one you fear to speak. Don't deny it, I've lived long enough to recognize that look on the faces of young men." While his words were jesting his face was grim.

"I am not sure it is safe to say. When I warned Lord Stark away from the mystery that set Lord Jon's enemies into motion, I would not reveal this last schemer. Not even when he imprisoned me for a few hours before (I)...the wizard broke me out. Could you wait to learn it until after we set sail?"

"You would tell me what you wouldn't tell the Hand?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. I do not know the Hand. Nor do I wish him the same fate as his foster father, the last Hand. It is dangerous to know. Politically dangerous," he urged with his tone for Lord Royce to drop the subject.

"That is why I feel I must know. You are coming to me for my aid. Jon Arryn was my friend and liege lord..." He was interrupted by his squire arriving with his armor. "I...we will speak of this as soon as possible. Now Edgar, once you're finished I want you at the stables in the rear. Ready my destrier with haste. Make sure horses for my son and eight men-at-arms are also being saddled."

"Lord Royce, pardon the interruption, but we will need swifter transport if we are to relieve my men. A way has been provided by Potter to move immediately from this house to the battle. But horses won't...it would not be advisable to test their reaction. It might be also smart to pack up what you want to take on the ship that will fit on this rug. He told me that in two hours time everything above the carpet would be sent aboard my galley by magic."

"Ser Harold, we are knights. We shouldn't leave our horses behind. They are trained battle mounts as well as a few won in the joust. I would not travel without them," he protested.  
"I understand. I would be loathe to part with my own mounts. Yet the extraordinary means of our arrival, and the fact my galley is not setup for horses. Cannot other arrangements be made? Your household here, couldn't they arrange them to be shipped to Gulltown after we leave or they could stay here and I will recompense you for the expense of replacing them back in the Vale. Time is of the essence," he pleaded.

As his squire affixed his armor and laid out his weapons for selection Bronze Yohn planned quickly and shouted orders to his servants that stayed in this house year round. He would not part with his horses so Harry quickly handed over his very full coin pouch to pay for the Royce servants to book their transport to Gulltown. With all the gold filling the bilge he barely balked at handing over such a sum. He was also forced to guarantee their safe passage or else replace any horses that were lost or damaged.

Before long the other nine men that would join them squeezed into the room. Even as they did, Lord Royce continued to order his and his son's squires to aid the servants in loading up his effects on the carpet and not to ask questions. Harry gave specific instructions to Willum to ensure there would be no splinching accidents for the three squires that would be riding the carpet later this morning. Ser Hardyng also let the armsmen know that their opponents would only have shield and leather armor, so a few battle axes were produced to aid their success.

Not wanting to accidentally hamper the timed portkey, Harry led the group down to the house's lounge and had the two knights in platemail and eight men-at-arms either in plate or heavy chain and boiled leather gather around him. He produced the repurposed iron hoop and sternly commanded all to grab hold of the metal and not let go no matter their surprise or discomfort. Their were grumbles of dark sorcery and a few, including Robyr refused to touch the hoop.

It took Harry describing his safe travel and Lord Royce calling them superstitious cowards as well as threatening to cast them out if they wouldn't follow his orders to get everyone holding the portkey. Harry then smiled, wished them the blessings of the Warrior, and recommended they clench their bowels and gird their loins. As the men chuckled he shouted, "Hold tight until I say!" and spoke the passcode: For the Vale. In a reality bending swirl with a deafening crack that shook the house, they were away. To the incredible surprise of the smallfolk and squires whose curiosity about the strange goings on overcame their fears of the supernatural.

HP - aSoIaF

Harry was extremely glad he'd had the foresight to expand the cabin when the eleven heavily armored large men were finally released from the pull connecting their navels to their hands touching the portkey. They landed in a crash of sprawled limbs and tangled bodies. Being the most familiar with the disorienting teleportation Harry managed to stand first. He did his best to calm their shouts and complaints as the squad of knights and men-at-arms got back to their feet.

The young wizard took the opportunity of step into the sterncastle's single narrow hall first and draw his wand with his body blocking the maneuver from the men back in the cabin. He was almost completely spent, his core empty but for a few fumes of mana, his body having been awake and active since his early morning escape from the Tower of the Hand. Through the weather door separating the cabins from the deck he could hear the shouts and clashes of battle. He had to win. All his plans and dreams relied on him succeeding here. Averting war with the Lannisters, getting justice for Lord Jon, winning the support of Lord Royce, protecting the Arryn men and the ship under his command. Harry couldn't risk losing, exhausted or not.

He was in a bit of a daze, noting the Royce force arranging themselves behind him. Ser Harold had brought them here with magic. But this was truly his first taste of real combat. He had sparred and fought in melees, so he knew the horror of injuring others. Harry had seen men die, mostly sellswords in the Disputed Territories or victims of accidents or raids by the Mountain Clans. But he had never done the deed personally, and he was on his last leg. The green eyed wizard had not been idle either as the Royces armed themselves. He had a plan.

So there in the hallway, as Lord Royce and Ser Robyr called for him to lead them to the battle all the while many grumbled at the damp and shifting floor indicating they were on ship and not somewhere in King's Landing. He poked his wand into the activation rune of the Variable Weight runic array hidden beneath his sword's bindings. With his final bit of magical strength he cranked up the longsword's mass over three times normal. Ignoring the worried questions directed his way, he sheathed his wand and removed two potions, with hunched shoulders and widened his stance to cloak his actions.

Harry threw back his strength potion quickly following it with the rage draught. As he choked down the two elixirs and began to feel their effects course through his body and mind, he finally found his words.

"Lord Royce, Ser Robyr, men of Runestone! We are aboard the _Gull's Dinner_ , galley of the Vale. Captain Nerris and Sergeant Gardan having been holding off some thirty to fifty brigands and sellswords since I came for you. I aim to sweep the scum from this ship. Any that meet me will shortly be greeting the Stranger! Form up a wedge behind me and let's shows these fools what real warriors look like! The smart ones will drown rather than face us! CHARGE!"

He probably should have waited to scout or let Lord Royce order his men, but the potions were fast acting. Harry felt powerful, but he also felt an aggression he couldn't contain. He needed to move. So with heater shield still firmly strapped to his right arm he drew his very heavy long sword with his left and started to jog to the threshold of the hallway. The door was locked from the outside but with his enhanced strength a shoulder charge saw the door flung wide.

Ahead of him was a shield wall formed by his men-at-arms. They struggled against a swarm of attackers leading with their own shields but trying to stab around them as well as drive the men back with the weight of their numbers. Harry bellowed a war cry of palpable hatred that caused a brief pause in the skirmish as the combatants noticed the new arrivals. His men recognized his blue falcon on red and white checkered pattern, so when he called for them to make a path they obliged.

Harry, still yelling loud enough to draw the Warrior's attention, started to run shield first at the line of attackers. His potion fueled body reached a great speed in the few steps he had before he met his first combatant. He knocked the man stumbling back into the press of bodies behind, even as several weapons clanged against his rune enforced platemail. Harry didn't feel or even notice the attack as his sword was already dropping from a overhand slash that connected with the shield of the man to the left of his first victim. With the power and weight behind the slash he cracked the shield and the arm underneath it.

The man couldn't help but react to the pain, and an Arryn men-at-arm took advantage by stabbing him in the neck with a short sword. But Harry took no notice. He needed to cause more damage, destroy those that stood against him. So he forged ahead swinging his shield wide to clear the weapons before him before stabbing his sword over another shield. With his strength he pierced the sellswords neck and then planted his back foot to pivot, swiping the sword in a wide slash into the leather capped skull of the next mercenary in his path.

His speed was surprising. His ferocity made his opponents hesitate in fear or at least caution. But it was his punishing blows that killed or maimed with every stroke that had the attackers shuffling back and away from him. Between his shield and enchanted armor, not even the experienced fighters that angled their attacks into blind spots or the few gaps in his own attacks could halt his onslaught. Much less injure him. The heavily armored Royces filtered into the wake of the juggernaut that proceeded them, hacking with axe and sword. The body count of the attackers sky rocketed.

The men that had boarded his ship for promises of gold, had only moments before been confident of victory as their numbers increased aboard the galley. Their comrades that were felled while shimmying up ropes and homemade ladders only increased their zeal as every one that didn't make it would increase their own share of the loot. They were pushing back the defenders, close to getting them to surrender or be cut down. But then with a yell a madman entered the fray. Many looked to the hedge knight that had organized this raid, would he just hang back while they were slaughtered.

Harry had just cleaved through a scarred tough's sword arm at the shoulder when he was confronted by his first opponent in mail. This man had a sigil on his tabard and moved with deadly grace to face him. His opponent tried approaching from his left and darting his sword for the weak point in his armor underneath his arm. Harry enjoyed the shock on the hedge knight's face when he leapt with his left leg rising to his waist bent at the knee. The stab glanced off his shin plate and passed harmlessly to the side. The wizard attempted to follow the move with falling haymaker with his right gauntlet, but the mail-clad assailant dodged backward avoiding both fist and shield edge.

"I would have you name Ser Brigand. You're the first worthy opponent I've faced. What will grace your plot in the Sept's Courtyard?!" Harry snarled. The small part of his mind that wasn't pulsing with anger recognized the man. He had been with Baelish when Harry had captured the man.

"Ser Lothor Brune. You took Lord Baelish possessions. I am taking them back." Rather than continuing to banter the self-proclaimed knight slashed wide at Harry followed by a controlled side step and stab. But Harry dealt with both attacks on his shield and swung hard overhand. Brune did not pause after his blocked strikes but staggered backwards out of the way of Harry's powerful blow which dug into deck. He couldn't take advantage though as Harry's potion fueled strength gave him the speed to reposition and loop an upward slash to waist height and then stab at backpedaling Ser Lothor.

The hedge knight could do little but defend from that point as Harry was relentless in his attacks. It was a testament to the man's skill that he hadn't been seriously hurt because Harry was pulling no punches. Space had opened up around them and he could tell many attackers had been defeated or leapt over board to escape. Their fight would end the battle. If he could just finish off this irritatingly elusive warrior. The man was extremely adept at catching his blows with his sword at angles that allowed him to deflect and move away from the attacks.

Harry had already broken the hedge knights painted shield, as well as a club he had grabbed to substitute, and gotten in a bruising stab to the man's mail protected thigh. But Brune's bladework was exceptional and prevented the full brunt of his strength and heavy weight sword from reaching his body or sword arm. The green-eyed teen knight was starting to worry his potions would lapse, and he would become vulnerable before he won. His desperation and anger spurred him on to attack harder, faster. Harry added feints as well as unconventional strikes to his punishing sword swings.

Finally Ser Lothar ran out of deck to dodge and grabbed a discarded shield to make a last ditch defense. The man was likely hoping for Harry to shield charge or take a mighty swing with his long sword so he could finally get in a counter strike other than the handful of half-strength jabbing ripostes he'd managed while redirecting his attacks. Entirely focused on winning the fight immediately, Harry did something few would ever contemplate much less try in platemail. He charged and at his final step he kicked out chest high with his left boot. It cracked the shield and pushed the man back in the wooden railing.

Brune's return swing was diminished as his body weight was thrust backwards by the powerful front kick so when his sword met Harry's shield it was the sword that was pushed back and out of the knight's grip with a jarring block. Brune had likely broken a rib on the gunwall despite his mail. Harry swung overhand again, but anticipated Ser Lothar dodging. The hedge knight already off balance and moving aside in sheer desperation had no more moves left. Harry's strengthened legs made quicker by potion, again realigned so his purposefully missing down stroke could turn into a powerful full body upstroke. He would split the man from crotch to waist with no chain links guarding between his legs.

"Ser Hardyng! NO! Take him prisoner! We must question him!" shouted Lord Royce with urgency.

Harry finally heard what others had probably been shouting at him for minutes. He heard because his potions were ebbing. His last blows draining the last unnatural power from his limbs and mind. So he changed the angle of his suddenly heavy long sword and with the last of his strength introduced Ser Lothor's uncovered chin to the pommel of his sword. The blow was enough to knock the man's helmeted head back and close his eyes. Harry stepped back, to allow his men to grabbed the concussed hedge knight. But it proved unnecessary as the man collapsed forward unconscious.

Swaying with bone-numbing exhaustion Harry called out quietly, "Ser Nerris, Gardan, Lord Royce...I am...tired." And like a great tree felled by a final axe blow Ser Harold fell to the deck as well, sound asleep. The surrounding soldiers who had witnessed his rage fueled rampage across the ship looked on to the blood drenched yet softly snoring knight in utter shock. That is before Lord Royce began to chuckle at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Laughs and grins were shared by all still able amongst the Valemen for a few beats before the stern Captain Nerris brought attention back to their prisoners with a few shouts at his men. The noble Royces offered to carry Ser Hardyng to the First Mate's cabin, both wanting to avoid the cabin of their magical arrival for as long as possible.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Impressions of Others

Last time:

 _Harry finally heard what others had probably been shouting at him for minutes. He heard because his potions were ebbing. His latest blows draining the last unnatural power from his limbs and mind. Quickly he changed the angle of his suddenly heavy long sword and with the last of his strength introduced Ser Lothor's uncovered chin to the pommel of his sword. The blow was enough to knock the man's helmeted head back and close his eyes. Harry stepped back, to allow his men to grabbed the concussed hedge knight. But it proved unnecessary as the man collapsed forward unconscious._

 _Swaying with bone-numbing exhaustion Harry called out quietly, "Ser Nerris, Gardan, Lord Royce...I am... tired." And like a great tree felled by a final axe blow Ser Harold fell to the deck as well, sound asleep. The surrounding soldiers who had witnessed Harry's rage fueled rampage across the ship looked on to the blood drenched yet softly snoring knight in utter shock. That is before Lord Royce began to chuckle at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Laughs and grins were shared by all still able amongst the Valemen for a few beats before the stern Captain Nerris brought attention back to their prisoners with a few shouts at his men. The noble Royces offered to carry Ser Hardyng to the First Mate's cabin, both wanting to avoid the cabin of their magical arrival for as long as possible._

HP-aSoIaF

It started with flashes of color surrounding blurred images, then those images became clearer. Faces. Faces of the men he had killed on the deck of the _Gull's Dinner_. Most were incomplete, profiles or three-quarters of a face, filled in with bloody wounds or shredded leather caps. He didn't want to see them, grunting, screaming, blood pouring from their mouths and ears. But he couldn't move, his body held in place and only vaguely there in the first place. Most didn't or couldn't speak but their eyes said it all, "why did you slay us?"

As more faces and images piled up before him, his perspective gradually widened to take in even more people staring at him accusingly. Amorphous humanoid shapes that he knew to be the wives, mothers, brothers, fathers, and children of the dead. Calling without words for justice against his crimes. Filled with guilt and shame Harold struggled to escape, to turn way from the eyes of judgment, but the more he struggled it seemed the tighter his bindings held him.

When his vision finally darkened and his view changed what was revealed might well have been worse. Before him now was his assembled family. His mother Anya Waynwood, weeping over the evil son she had raised. Comforting her while shooting accusing glares in his direction were all his foster siblings and their spouses. And to the side, worst of all, was a desolate Kara Stone bawling over her broken heart, falling for a murdering knave. Harold tried to defend himself, but his mouth was held shut, each defensive thought met and overridden with a flash of the face of a man he had slaughtered.

How long he was stuck in this hell of his own creation, the young knight Hardyng had no idea. The first change in quite some time was the entrance of Archmage Potter into the scene, shaking his head as he looked around. Then the cloaked wizard approached him, and once he was close enough to touch him, a mirror image of his own hand filled his vision. And with a resounding snap of the fingers everything shifted.

Harry now found himself stretched out on a comfortable couch in the interactive study of the Grimoire. His transition included him staring deeply into the crackling tendrils of a roaring fire. His head rested in a feminine lap and slender fingers brushed comfortingly through his hair. He could detect a floral scent mixed with parchment, a strange thing to notice in this dream as rarely did he ever notice smells. But still a slim hand stroked his head and slid through his unruly hair, comforting him just as Anya had when he was little and suffered a nightmare.

"Now that you've calmed down we need to talk. You've avoided this for far too long Harry Potter, but I can't wait any longer. Not after this latest stunt. Bloody Gryffindor." An unfamiliar voice spoke above him, with an accent not unlike that of Archmage Potter. The hand that had been petting him stilled and then lifted his head to look at its owner. Harry now saw a woman he had never met before. She was pretty, very trim with hazel eyes and curly light brown hair that bushed out in curls giving her over three inches of added volume. She was dressed very strangely in a buttoned up white shirt and a very odd scarf of red and gold. Also a rich black cloak, again cut in a manner Harry had never encountered before. She was also quite underdressed wearing only some sort of half dress bottom that left nearly all her lower legs exposed.

"Who are you?" Harry asked incredulously.

HP-aSoIaF

 _King's Landing, Maegor's Holdfast, Small Council Room._

 _The second day after the river battle, May 298 AC_

Last evening Lord Stark had sent his longtime steward Vayon Poole to call for a meeting of the Small Council this morning. It had become the practice to meet twice a week unless there was a pressing issue. And in the Hand's mind such an issue had just happened. He was embarrassed to admit that Ser Hardyng had escaped just as he said he would. Eddard hoped to request from Varys, Renly, or Littlefinger any information they had on his whereabouts. But he also had in mind to discuss the bloody skirmish that occurred around dawn yesterday. Apparently Littlefinger's sworn sword, Ser Lothar Brune, though just a hedge knight, had rounded up a large group of sellswords and attempted to board and capture a galley owned by House Arryn that was being used by Lord Royce.

The doughty Bronze Yohn had rallied his men and defeated the boarders, but now the problem was Lord Eddard's. He had six longboats commandeered by the gold cloaks, twenty mercenaries in the first floor prisons of the Traitor's Tower that had been fished out of the Blackwater rush, and another sixteen badly injured being tended to in the Maidenvault by a pair of volunteer Maesters visiting the city. No one had been able to find Pycelle to do his duty for over a day. Yesterday afternoon he had spoken with the prisoners and was chagrinned to learn Ser Harold's sigil had been seen in the battle even though Lord Royce claimed not to know the location of the knight he was searching for.

The would be river pirates were less forthcoming on why they had followed Brune in attacking the Vale ship. When separated, a few mentioned that he should ask Baelish for more information. That was another reason he was eager to meet with the Small Council. The Master of Coin had skipped their last meeting and Ned wanted an explanation from the man that his wife had asked him to trust. A small part of him was curious about the truthfulness of Ser Hardyng's accusations of Baelish being far more powerful than was known.

Lord Stark arrived early so none of the other council members could see his limp. He crossed the bailey with a squad of thirty sworn swords, while his remaining one hundred and fifteen men under his newly promoted Captain Hallis Mollen's command remained in the tower with his daughters. As was his practice upon entering the small council chamber, he first stood gingerly at the windows looking out over Blackwater Bay. Also a part of his ritual since his failed attempt to resign the post of Hand of the King, he wondered what the hell he was doing here in King's Landing. His initial concerns of watching over Sansa, investigating Lord Arryn's final days, and helping his foster brother, the King were now far removed from his mind.

More and more he felt himself sinking into the muck of city, set up to fail since he was a late comer and an outsider in the capitol. All of his efforts and initiatives were seemingly carried out or rejected at the behest of others, often people he didn't even know were involved. And his old friend was a great disappointment. Eddard had no idea how Jon Arryn had put up with Robert for seventeen years if this was how he acted. The man might as well abdicate the throne for all the concern he showed. And yet the Baratheon King continued to insist his Stark Hand must 'run' the kingdom for him, whatever that actually meant. Eddard was starting to think it really only meant maintaining a constant stream of wine and women headed the King's way without interruption. If he weren't still too injured to ride, he would seriously consider just taking off.

Broken from his ruminations by the entrance of the Master of Laws, Renly, he moved slowly to his seat at the head of the council table to look over his agenda for the meeting. Over the next fifteen minutes the rest of the small council filtered in, including Queen Cersei who claimed Robert had sent her in his stead. Unfortunately, they were still lacking Petyr Baelish and Grand Maester Pycelle. Eddard proposed waiting longer, but in a rare unsolicited offer, Varys declared them both officially missing from King's Landing as far as his 'little birds' could tell. Peeved at their continued absence, Lord Stark called for one of his men-at-arms to enter and ordered the man to retrieve a Maester from the Maidenvault to fill in for their missing brother Pycelle.

Lord Stark took a moment to mentally review his agenda and began with their prisoners from the river skirmish. In a rare success in this chamber, Eddard's proposal to send the pirates to the Wall was met with unanimous approval. Even the dour but just Stannis had no desire to house prisoners any longer than necessary, wasting the crown's resources when the men could be put to better use guarding the kingdom's borders. None of the prisoners had any standing to mitigate their crimes. Especially when they were so obviously guilty of piracy. The recently returned Baratheon sibling even proposed offering them the Wall or execution to encourage their acceptance of the sentence. As the Master of Ships, he had an especially dim view on pirates. While she didn't speak, Cersei seemed especially pleased to see Baelish's right hand banished to the far north.

In fact, her seeming joy at the removal of one of their governing member's most trusted servants filled him with concern. Never in his years of overseeing the king's justice as Lord of Winterfell had he sentenced a man or in this case a large group of men to such a final fate without greater investigation. How easily could he be stripped of his sworn Northmen were he to miss a meeting as Baelish was. Regardless, a win was a win, and so he moved on to the next pressing matter.

That being the whereabouts of Ser Hardyng. When Cersei asked why he wanted to find such a lowly Vale knight, Eddard prevaricated about sending a message to his wife to unravel the Tyrion situation. Cersei revealed she was also interested in speaking with Ser Harold in regards to some disparaging remarks he made about her son's betrothal. Stannis scoffed at such petty concerns and made some digs at his brother for saddling this council with Cersei and her womanly prerogatives. He urged anyone to speak of this knight so they could move on.

Renly related that he practiced jousting with Ser Hardyng and spent some time reveling in the Red Tankard tavern with the young Valeman as well. It was his impression that the knight stuck close to the visiting Royces since their lord's grandson was his new squire. Next Lord Stark requested of Varys to relate what he knew, but he said the whispers weren't reliable at this time.

With both Stannis and Eddard glaring at him for dragging it out, the Spider related that he had heard that Ser Hardyng was reported to have been at multiple places at the same time, once being in both the Tower of the Hand and the Royce Townhouse in the same night, as well as somehow on the aforementioned Vale ship while also being in the Royce Townhome. With the Royces gone as well as their ship he couldn't accurately say where the knight was, speculating that for some reason the man had hired a double to confuse anyone tracking him. Eddard then requested of Varys to make sure there were some birds headed to Gulltown to see if the mysterious knight showed up there with the Royces.

Maester Donnagar finally arrived and revealed to the council that the Citadel had no knowledge of why Pycelle was missing. He and his fellow Maester Callos were merely passing through King's Landing awaiting ships to Myr and the Vale respectively when the city watch asked them for assistance in dealing with the wounded sellswords. He had looked through the rookery the previous night and found some clues that the elderly Pycelle had packed for a journey as well as taking with him all of the raven born messages from the past week.

Lord Stark requested he send word to Oldtown of Pycelle's disappearance as well as a request for an interim advisor until the whereabouts of the longtime resident of King's Landing could be found or officially replaced for abandoning his post without word. Donnagar agreed to stay in the Red Keep and man the ravens until he received commands from his order. Renly was quick to interject a question for Varys as to Pycelle's location as the Master of Whispers often knew more than he let on. But Varys would only reveal that the Grand Maester hadn't left by any gate, including the river gate to the harbor.

Lord Stark was quick to pick up on their perhaps being other exits from the capitol besides the manned gates and asked Varys about any hidden escapes he knew of. In response, nearly the entire council other than Donnagar and Stannis laughed or smiled at the northern lord's ignorance of the Red Keep's hidden tunnel system. Varys smugly offered to return with Lord Stark and show him one of several secret passages he knew of in Eddard's own Tower of the Hand. Now even more concerned about the safety of his household, the Lord Stark decided to push on with the meeting.

They next discussed the missing Lord Baelish. Both Renly and Cersei took the opportunity to propose increasingly absurd and vulgar reasons for the whoremonger's absence, until Stannis grew too disgusted and slammed his palm on the table, demanding they quit wasting his time with their japes. Varys then related that the last place any of his little birds had seen Littlefinger was entering Chataya's Brothel, one of many businesses Petyr owned. That put a scowl on Lord Stark's face and a smirk on Cersei's. As that was the very brothel outside which Jaime Lannister had ambushed Eddard, killing his friend and longtime captain of his guard Jory Cassell.

Deciding to push the dagger in deeper, Cersei then further side tracked the discussion by making accusations against Catelyn Stark for causing her twin's attacks. She was quite successful in turning the Hand's face ever grimmer until Renly interjected that she was just as likely as the Tully sisters to want her dwarven brother dead. Nodding begrudgingly at his brother Renly for diffusing a potentially volatile argument before it went too far, Stannis proposed they set the watch to search for Baelish and in the meantime think of new potential Masters of Coin who could possibly replace Littlefinger before their next meeting.

Lord Stark then requested for Stannis, Renly, and Varys to join him in investigating Baelish's rooms in Maegor's Holdfast for clues as well as any urgent business of the crown. That grouping had Cersei frowning even deeper than the earlier reminder of her misshapen brother. She impatiently awaited any further business, and when none was brought up announced she would inform King Robert of the important details of this meeting before storming off, somehow still showing off her unrivaled curves while stalking away like an angry lioness.

Entering Baelish's office was daunting. Nearly every surface was covered in loose parchment notes interspersed with a rare ledger book. Without Petyr's aid, going through the mess would be the work of days, perhaps even weeks to sort through the office. Varys offered to take the work off his hands, but Eddard declined stating that with Pycelle gone, along with all of the recent correspondence, it was even more important that the Master of Whispers focus on his task of gathering information throughout the kingdom. And as always the man demurred, showing no sign of frustration at being denied. It unnerved Ned, this man with no apparent emotions, only an ever-present sly smile to greet any situation.

Once Varys left the room he asked the two Baratheons to stay as his men began boxing up everything to take it to the Tower of the Hand. Renly questioned why he would take such a drastic step when Baelish wasn't even missing a week.

"Because my lords, this is an opportunity. Do either of you have any idea what the Master of Coin does with his time?" Met with a shrug from Renly and Stannis narrowing his eyes and frowning, Ned continued, "Neither do I. And yet somehow the crown is six million dragons in debt. How? Why? I aim to find out. Renly, Stannis, I desperately need some allies here. If your brother's house is to continue beyond his reign we need to take back the Crownlands into our… his control. Stannis, I know Robert has done little to earn your favor, but if not for his sake than at least for the legacy of House Baratheon lend me your support. We must get people loyal to your house, loyal to us into positions of power here in King's Landing."

"What is this all about Lord Stark. A few weeks ago you were trying to resign, now you want us to put in a larger effort and shake up the city to make it dance to our tune?" Renly questioned wryly.

Instead of responding directly Lord Stark turned to Stannis. "Can't you feel it. It's like back in the prelude to the Battle of the Bells. Now it is us instead of Robert that are outnumbered, defending a poor position. All our scouts have disappeared and we're blind, hoping that we'll have time to retreat before our forces are overwhelmed. This is not how ruling Winterfell feels, and I imagine Dragonstone or Storms End either. We must do something to change our position or just give up. Staying here as we are, is just asking to be overwhelmed."

Stannis stroked his chin as both Eddard and Renly waited on his answer. He had been days away from just leaving again himself, having only returned to carry out some tasks that had built up for his role as Master of Ships. His wife had sent him a raven about a messenger arriving at Dragonstone with a coded message from Jon Arryn. It still rubbed him the wrong way, how Stark had been chosen ahead of him for Hand. Yet, hearing it laid out in such a way, he knew that if he didn't get involved his Shireen might grow to inherit nothing. Perhaps not even Dragonstone as the Lannisters and merchant houses relentlessly marginalized House Baratheon of the Crownlands. With Renly's distasteful lifestyle, as well as Robert's, it fell to him to save House Baratheon from losing the victory. And so he nodded, leading to handshakes and promises to meet soon to begin their planning.

HP-aSoIaF

The strange women briefly shifted to the form of Archmage Potter before resetting to this new form. "Clearly I am the Grimoire; how else would we be here in the first place? The more important concern is why we are here? Why you were so reckless to end up unconscious, magically exhausted, and completely at the mercy of strangers?" She stood now with hands on her hips and a foot tapping. It made Harry squirm in the face of her feminine rebuke.

"Yeah, but why do you look like that? You've never done that before. And thinking on it how did you set this up. If I'm unconscious, then I surely didn't open the book to initiate one of our sessions," he questioned.

"Now he uses his brain. I was growing concerned that you had somehow reverted into a typical Westerosi meathead, I mean knight, good for little other than brutalizing the weak and looking fancy. I portkeyed to you and imparted a little of my stored mana through our connection to make sure you didn't die from core exhaustion. While it turns out that this gesture was unneeded, it was a close thing as our link was nearly disrupted as you neared a death like state. Do you know what would happen to me if you died? That was a rhetorical question, of course you don't. Let me just assure you it would be a terrible fate, a book charged with teaching, never to interact with a student ever again." The young woman shuddered briefly before returning her gimlet eye upon him.

"I suppose introductions are in order. I am a part, but a separate aspect of my creator that I'm starting to think he wasn't initially going to include. I look like his closest childhood friend Hermoine Granger, and I exist because during his formative years Harry Potter's conscience, super ego…" she notices Harry's blank face" the part of his mind that tells him when something is wrong or evil, was attributed to his friend. Ugh, this is so difficult, we really should have included some psychology in your tutelage. That voice in your head that tells you not to do something, it wasn't his own, but Hermoine's. Once he finally started occlumency and discovered this arrangement, rather than changing the situation he decided he preferred having a Hermoine Granger in his mind keeping him on the straight and narrow. So here I am, and due to your foolishness and willful ignorance you've forced me bring you to task," she snipped.

"What?! Why, because I'm seeking justice for my family? Because I'm asserting myself rather than letting lesser men decide my fate?" he ground out with anger in his eyes at her criticism.

"What is your name wizard?" she intoned, interrupting the promising start of good rant.

"You know it very well. Harold Hardyng."

"This is why I am here. You know that is false. My other aspect has brought it up many times in the years since you acceded to not finding out how you received a Grimoire upon our first meeting. You cannot ignore this any longer, not when your false sense of identity drives you to such reckless behavior. Now answer truthfully, what is your name wizard?"

Harry struggled with responding. He attempted to exit the study, but unlike thousands of times before, he couldn't. So he set to pacing instead, ignoring this woman in the hopes she would leave him alone. He was unsure how long this went on, time in the study was always a shaky concept.

"I'm not going anywhere and neither are you. If you were conscious perhaps you could force you way out. But you aren't. This idiocy can go on no longer. Say it, you stubborn prat," she shouted at him.

"Fine! You want to hear my name?! It's Harry Potter, you crazy book. I don't know how or why but I'm Harry Potter as well as Harold Hardyng. Are you happy?" he sat on the couch panting, as if he'd been sprinting rather than just yelling. He crossed his arms and began brooding almost immediately, again ignoring the young woman directly in front of him.

"It isn't I that should be happy. But you. You are not Harold Hardyng, that boy died with his mother. You are the orphan son of James and Lily Potter, who was rescued from a very bad situation that the Archmage had to suffer through. So in order to save you from that ordeal, he inserted you into the Waynwood household so you could have a safe and happy life. You don't owe the Arryns anything, you aren't related in any way."

"So what, I'm just supposed to forget about my foster family! Do whatever you say and ignore all the people that helped me, that I grew up with, just on your word?" He snarled back.

"That is not what I'm saying. I do believe you are beholden to those that adopted you," she acknowledged. "The Waynwoods took you in and accepted you as a part of their family, and your feelings for them are real and important whatever your origins. What I cannot countenance is you continuing on, placing yourself in danger based on a lie. The Arryns are dead, or will be soon if Robert is somehow legitimate despite all evidence to the contrary. You have no more right to take the Lord Paramount's seat than does Petyr Baelish. At least not as you have been, ignoring the truth, pretending that you really are an Arryn heir." She sat beside him on the couch again as Harry glumly nodded.

"You are also attempting something that has rarely worked out in all of history. A wizard ruling over non-magicals. It has almost always led eventually to tragedy. Just look at the Valyrian's, slavers who crushed the world under their boot. It is very easy for a wizard to becomes a tyrant when the people flout his authority or power. The people could also turn on the wizard because he is different and they fear what he could do to them. Even when a wizard rules flawlessly, the wizard's children could eventually turn from the teachings of their magical parent to sour the right to rule. Or it could go a totally different way, you worshipped by the masses, your magic somehow becoming divine and you a god in their midst. That could go poorly in a number of different ways," Hermoine warned him as her look softened.

"But who else could take my place. That snake Baelish? Lysa and Robyn? Without an Arryn the houses of the Vale will descend into war. Each vying to place themselves or their ally into the leadership of the Vale. And it's not like I've presented myself as a wizard. It would be Ser Hardyng that becomes the new Lord Arryn not Wizard Potter," he argued.

"How long can that deception last? Your children, most if not all, will inherit you magic. You are not just committing yourself to this dual role but all that come after you." She held his eyes a moment before he turned away. "Harry, do you really want to live two lives. All the lies upon lies you will have to spin to everyone around you. Determining who you can trust with your true self. Does that life really sound appealing to you? I'm not trying tell you what to do, but I am in your head. I know you haven't thought any of this through. It is distressingly typical how even raised in an entirely different world, Harry Potter leaps in to save the day without a plan." She chuckled to herself.

"I…...Dammit! It's…. Why do I…...?" Harry spent a good ten minutes spluttering out sentence fragments and frowning in consternation. Finally, "As always you know me too well Grimoire. As painful as it is to admit it. You are right. Everything you've said has been lurking in the back of my mind and to my shame I've avoided even letting myself think about it. But I suppose I have time right now to make up a plan since I'm stuck here for….?" Harry paused, waiting for the Hermoine aspect to respond.

"By my calculations, twenty-eight to thirty hours. Harry you've really done a number on your body. Potions are not without cost; they often draw on your magic to complete their purpose. I am not exaggerating that you came very close to killing yourself when you took those potions on top of everything else you've done in the last day." Hermoine's concerned look softened the rebuke, sobering Harry's knee jerk desire to defend himself.

"I suppose you are not quite as…. patient and understanding as my magic instructor Archmage Potter?" Harry wondered to himself.

"His job is to teach. I provide you with the truth, a far harsher task. Especially when you avoid it because it is unpleasant." While her words were castigating her smile showed that the Grimoire was teasing, in the way things are funny because they are true. And with startling suddenness her demeanor changed once again as the study shifted, with chalk boards appearing all around their couch. "Now, no more slacking Harry, it is time to finally do your homework." She inexplicably now had a long wooden pointer that she tapped menacingly against her palm.

HP-aSoIaF

 _Narrow Sea, Gull's Dinner_

 _Three days out from King's Landing, May 298 AC_

Robyr Royce leaned on his elbows, resting against the railing and occasionally looking over his shoulder eastward across the Narrow Sea in the early morning. With the sun still close to the horizon, the glare made looking to the open waters unbearable so instead he looked west to the Crackclaw peninsula. He could see a storm far out to their northeast but he wasn't really taking note of that. Instead he alternated between frustrated fidgeting and forlorn sighs. It was to this tableau that Lord Royce emerged from below decks. Robyr turned to face him at his approach shading his eyes with his hand.

"It isn't right! I don't understand why you and the captain are taking this so lightly. We should be doing something, placing him in irons at least. He was unnatural in that fight, and we found all those vials on him. Ser Hardyng has been corrupted by that Sorcerer. Do you know how many people on this ship this so called wizard has threatened with his magic? Dozens. And yet you counsel us to do nothing. We have the Grand Maester and the Master of Coin kidnapped on this ship on the word of some…aberration, and you lumped us in with him when you lied to the watch. It isn't right father," he growled, managing to both yell and whisper at the same time.

"Are you finished, boy. It seems you have forgotten our family's history, what I taught you about the world before you left to squire for that Seven worshipping knight. We are of the first men, Robyr, once allies of the Children of the Forest. We cleave to the Old Gods because we know of the power they possess, unlike these silly septons that demand money and bleat about proprieties while doing little for the community. Have you really forgotten the Runestone? I know I haven't shared all of its nature with you since you're my second son, but surely you can't discount that our lands produce greater yields than any other house in the Vale for their acreage. Or that we've never been raided by the mountain clans or pirates. Ever. Magic is real Robyr and only the willfully stupid disregard it when it stares them in the face." Yohn looked at his son disappointedly.

"You and Gardan are grumbling about magic being evil, while I see a single knight devastating an opposing force, or being able to move our troops in the blink of an eye to the battlefield. After Ser Hardyng's charge broke their backs, not one of our men was seriously injured. That is a miracle that I won't soon forget. Magic is just a tool. One which almost none know how to wield true, but not the danger itself. It is the one using the tool that you need to look at. What are their motives, their actions? And for now, we don't have that information. So we stay neutral, we wait and see if House Royce should be for or against." Yohn had placed his hand on his son's shoulder as they spoke. When Robyr tried to shake it off, his father's grip tightened.

"You need to reign in that temper, Red. I am still your lord and father and my word dictates the path of our house. Even if Hardyng is corrupted as you say, he may throw it off with aid. But most importantly, he is the heir of the Vale, and he has a powerful sorcerer aiding his every move. House Royce will not set in motion its own doom by making him our enemy. Not without more than your unease to guide us. Talk to him when wakes, find out what is going on in his head. You just spent an entire day with him in King's Landing. Did he strike you as unstable, or out to do you harm? Now is the time for calm curiosity rather than your hot headed accusations. Do you yield to my orders, or am I forced to bar you from Ser Hardyng?" Yohn's eyes bore into the now slightly chagrinned face of his son.

"I…...will follow your will. It's just, I've never believed. I always just thought you were a superstitious eccentric when you went on about your armor or the Runestone. Are you telling me truly that it has power?" Robyr had now relaxed somewhat and the two now sat side by side on the railing.

"We will be talking more about where this idea of my teachings being false comes from because you aren't my only son to think so. I haven't told you yet, but Weymar, the fool, went a step further and tried to damage the stone, to prove it was all nonsense. That is why he wears the black now. None from our family will be allowed to forget our lore or directly disobey their lord. Don't expect to leave Runestone anytime soon when we arrive. I will show you how wrong your thinking about my 'superstitious foolishness' you have been. But that is knowledge only for our ears so I won't discuss it here. Just prepare yourself Rob, it seems you'll need to open your mind to the weirder workings of the world."

With that parting phrase, Yohn patted his son on his head, messing up his red hair much to his adult son's annoyance. They smiled to each other, and Yohn returned below decks to allow his son to think about what they'd discussed.

HP & aSoIaF

"What you've come up with, it does appear to work in theory, but…...?" the Hermoine aspect hedged.

"Come on, this is great for coming up with it on the spur of the moment. Not only will it secure the peace and prosperity of the Vale, but this plan will lay a strong foundation for a viable magical society. Why are you unsure of my…? I mean our plan?"

"It's just, if I were really Hermoine Granger I would be slapping you silly for being a letch and a pervert. My logical morality does agree that this…intention…of yours will best achieve your goals. I guess I'm just astonished that we haven't triggered any righteous feminine fury. Although," the Hermoine aspect cutely gnawed at her lower lip as she considered, "I suppose my lack of reaction could be because while I am intended to be an accurate depiction of Harry's best friend, I really am still a piece of Archmage Potter. The man's roster of lovers during his very long life numbered in the hundreds so I suppose it would be a bit hypocritical for me to begrudge you your plans." She chuckled good naturedly with Harry over the absurdity of their most recent discussions.

"But Harry, you are neglecting some pretty important factions in this scheme of yours."

"Who? I think I've fairly well mapped out all the political reactions from the lordly houses in the Vale and our neighbors. This will work, especially if I can maneuver things properly during the upcoming trail," he defended.

"Yes, yes, you've seemingly handled all the feudal interests that we can predict, but Lordly houses and merchants are not the only important forces at work in Westeros. What about the Septancy and the Maesters? One exerts great control over the pious, which includes upwards of eighty percent of your society. The other not only controls all non-military knowledge but also is the only method of long distance communication. Not to mention both have access to magic. You cannot overlook their importance."

"Are you saying that the Seven are real? That they actually involve themselves with their faithful. Come on Hermoine, the other aspect has always encouraged my skepticism towards any of the religions. Can't you two get your answers straight before you get me involved?" he grumbled in frustration.

"The Archmage aspect is charged with instructing you as a wizard, I imagine he didn't want you wasting your time with the gods when it might distract you from your own progress. I, as I have stated, am only interested in your mental wellbeing. A healthy mind must be honest with itself at the very least. I see no point, at this stage of your maturity, to hide the truth from you any longer. Yes, the gods are real in a sense. Yes they can interact with the physical plane. Now quit going off on a tangent and let's get back to planning your moves in regards to the Septons and Maesters."

"You can't just drop that surprise on me and move on. Not after it seems this crazy book has been lying to me for years. Tell me what you know about the supernatural or I'll refuse to spend any more time on what you want me to do?" Harry adopted his most stubborn face as well as crossing his arms across his chest and leaning back into the study's couch as far as he could go.

"You are being childish…. Really now? Fine. If it will get you moving again I'll give you a brief tutorial on what the actual Archmage Potter learned of this world's divine hierarchy before placing us here." The Hermoine aspect stood and with a wave of her reappearing pointer added a new chalk board full of a bulleted outline in neat if cramped writing.

"First, note that what I am about to tell you only applies to this reality. Now back in the beginnings of this universe there existed forces that allowed the worlds, stars, and eventually life to exist. With the advent of intelligent life, the human species in this world's case, man began to wonder at the world around them. Questions like why do things fall, why did they need food and water, how did plants grow? The mysteries of life in other words. And as is typical for primitive societies, they began to attribute such forces as the work of higher beings. Soon full mythologies were created to explain the natural laws governing their world and this is where things get a bit complicated. You understand so far?" she questioned. A sharp nod from Harry was all she needed to return to her lecture.

"These explanations soon turned to worship and the asking for intervention. At first I doubt the early men received much of a response. But as more and more worshipped, especially if that worship became mandatory to their culture, more and more spiritual energies where directed at the forces of the universe. This collective will went on long enough and was widespread enough that humanity succeeded in creating their own gods. Once this occurred and the various gods gained sentience the whole process of transferring spiritual energy to these emerging higher beings rapidly increased. Mostly due to the beings themselves starting to work on this plane to gain more spiritual energy. Other groups of men, envious of the divine works that neighboring tribes benefitted from rapidly converted or created their own religions and so the process spread and intensified."

"Wait a minute. Are you telling me that any religion that has been around long enough can create a god? That seems pretty farfetched. How can beings of spiritual energy as you call it actually interact with the world? And where do they exist? I," as Harry started to ask another question, Hermoine smacked her pointer against the board to interrupt the deluge of incredulity.

"If you would just listen without interrupting I'm sure all of your questions will be covered. Now, Archmage Potter came up with two theories on why/how this happened. The first is that their already existed some even higher level power that allowed or even facilitated this process for whatever reason. The other relates to the very…. thin barriers that exist in this universe between the physical plane and the inter-dimensions. You know, the slightly out of phase yet overlapping dimensions that correspond to the nuclear forces, which allows matter to exist. As well as the fifth dimension relating to the one element that can bend and break the interaction between all the others, Magic." Hermoine's eyes narrowed as Harry only blinked dumbly.

"Don't give me that vapid look, I know that the other aspect covered this in the introductory materials on Sorcery. If you cannot remember, then clearly that is a lecture for you to review on another day. Regardless, Potter theorized that the extremely strange entities that inhabit these singular force dimensions may have somehow colluded or interacted to give themselves a means to live beyond their origins, most specifically those beings from the Order (Strong Nuclear) and Magic dimensions. This while fascinating doesn't matter that greatly for you until you start your sorcery training. It happened, deal with it." Hermoine stared at Harry, almost daring him to interject again. Satisfied that he was sufficiently cowed enough to continue, she moved on.

"The thing most do not realize is that the original versions of the gods set their natures. So all of the subsequent schisms, heresy, and revisions to religions had no effect whatsoever. The gods, what their domains are, their powers, and their locations were set and all that varies is how powerful they became from their worshippers and whether they are at all still interested in the physical world. As you can imagine the Valyrian pantheon no longer interacts with the world that much as their worshippers where wiped out for the most part in the Doom. Most important for your concerns are the Seven-that-are-one and the Old gods, as well as the two outlier…demons for lack of a better term."

"The Seven are your adopted family's heritage, and reflect the beliefs of the early Andals. Those ancestors were not only interested in formalizing the domains of the Seven you were raised with, but also the stars, the brightest of which were actually planets. Such is the reason for the timing of the original high holidays and the seven-pointed star, which carries much greater significance than any modern septon realizes. The Seven as one relates to the different gods/planets coming together in groups or as one to affect the known world, in this case Northern Essos and most of Westeros south of the Neck."

"The Old Gods are a bit more straightforward. They were localized groups of beings that had some control over their surroundings. In other words, nature spirits tied to the earth, sky, bodies of water etc. The weirwood trees and the children of the forest were the actual physical manifestation of this faith, not that those pseudo elves would ever admit it following their war with the First Men. The trees are the focal point for the area's gods to interact with their worshippers, and the children were somehow created as their servants in this world."

"And those demons you mentioned? I get the general thrust of your explanation of those two religions, but how does something like a demon come to being? Who would worship something like that?" he asked with a shudder.

"Yes, they are a bit aberrant to how the gods were created. Archmage Potter could only speculate that they were powerful beings from the Ice or Endothermic (relating to Gravitation) and Fire or Exothermic (relating to Weak Nuclear) inter-dimensions that somehow became aware of this higher power, spiritual energy phenomenon. As some point these antithetical demons became angered at religions and gods being created. Or perhaps jealous that they were not included. The two of note are the Great Other and the self-styled Lord of Light. Somehow they managed to interact with some very foolish heretics that started up religions in their names."

Now in full lecture mode the Hermoine aspect energetically continued her lecture, "Since they directed their own manifestation, and their apparent long term goal is the destruction of humans and the gods they created, they are quite dangerous from time to time. They were only limited in power and scope due to their lack of understanding about the nature of the physical plane as well as the concept of time. Even so, they are both patient, cunning, and have no problem manipulating men, or children, into their service. You will recall one of their incursions, The Long Night of myth. So while their efforts are rarely encountered, they usually are quite devastating. Something to keep in the back of your mind but otherwise shouldn't have any bearing on your current endeavors."

"The final relevant information you should take into account is that the Maesters and the Targaryens managed to acquire or perhaps inherit some of the lore of Valyria. The Targaryen line were devout followers of the flame god Balerion, patron of dragons and their riders. While the Maesters probably have information on the entire pantheon, including the Valyrian gods of Light, Darkness, and Magic. Your duel with Pycelle suggests that those deities are still willing to bestow power to the acolytes of their mysteries. I hope this brief synopsis is sufficient for you to start developing a strategy to deal with the members of these various religions and orders." Hermoine after pausing to take questions opted to take a bow while Harry fanatically applauded her performance. A little humor was a balm for the serious discussion they had just completed. A faux tea service appeared on a side table for the two to relax around while they took a break from the intense planning session.

HP & aSoIaF

 _King's Landing, Maegor's Holdfast, Queen's chambers_

 _Five days after the River Battle, May 298_

Cersei groggily untangled herself from the tanned teen arm that had been spooning her. With an aching head she turned to look at her bed companion in disgust. Last night, well into her second bottle of wine she had though it a great idea to invite cousin Lancel to her bed chambers. In the dark and with her inebriated state he looked just enough like Jaime to get her arousal flowing. But after forcing most of a third bottle on the young squire of her husband just to overcome his fear of discovery, the results could only be described as disappointing. Truly all that she had gained was increased frustration. That and a sliver of revenge against Jaime for abandoning her and their children to go attempt a rescue of that murderous creature she had for a younger brother. She was reminded yet again how easily she could use her beauty to manipulate hormonal young men to serve her needs. Cersei supposed she would need to feign satisfaction and prop up the little shit's ego if he were to remain her tool going forward.

After a quick breakfast spent reviewing her father's last few letters to her, she sent her page of the month to fetch her an escort from the Lannister sworn men. Cersei stepped outside to send away her kingsguard Ser Mandon Moore on an errand to Joffrey in order to escape his watchful eye, as well as provide Lancel a means to escape from her chambers. Soon she was accompanied by her guard captain Vylarr with ten red cloaks making their way down Shadowblack lane, home to the townhomes of many lords and merchants that could not afford the larger mansions further off this main thoroughfare of Aegon's High Hill. They stopped at a fairly nondescript two story home that housed a somewhat important factor of one of the eleven major merchant houses of King's Landing. Her escort stepped into a sitting room for refreshments, while she and Vylarr continued further back into a small office.

Here Cersei met with the actual head of the Merchant House of Bell, a family run outfit that focused on the forging and sale of weapons throughout Westeros. For quite a while Sercus Bell had been in lock step with Baelish's consortium, as Littlefinger had been integral to the family expanding greatly over the last decade. But with the Master of Coin's disappearance her father, or more likely his local financial representative in the capital Marcus Lanny, felt the time was right to sway the prominent merchant into their sphere of influence. It galled Cersei greatly to parrot the double speak and pleasantries she had been ordered to relate on her father's behalf. She was the Queen! This fat rich commoner should be bowing at her feet, begging to serve her interests. Instead she only succeeded in securing an additional meeting to discuss future counter proposals with the largest purchaser of iron ore in Westeros.

Her continuing frustration at her lack of true power led her to exit the back of this town home and meander through back alleys for a quarter mile before entering a gate marked with the sigil of the disgraced and un-landed knightly house Kettleblack. She was not entirely familiar with the house's history but their modest mansion suggested they had been prominent at some point. She and Vylarr were quickly escorted into a sitting room by a maid where she met the oldest of the Kettleblack brothers, Osmund. Setting up this meeting had been quite the task for her to arrange. She had no desire for anyone to discover her meeting with a sellsword on her own. Luckily Vylarr had proved both his loyalty and devotion to her above all others over the course of her marriage. His skill and competence left Cersei confident this introduction would avoid discovery.

"So what brings the Queen to such a lowly home?" Osmund challenged with a serious face.

"It has not escaped my family's attention that there has been a serious shakeup in the ranks of the mercenaries that call King's Landing home. The whispers suggest the family Kettleblack managed to escape a bit of unpleasantness in the Blackwater Rush recently. Rumors also suggest that many lesser sellswords that used to look to Ser Lothor Brune for contracts and leadership now have turned to your family for counsel on where to find employment. I wish to determine for myself the truth of the matter."

"Looking at your stature and unblemished face I am beginning to suspect that your prowess and position has not been exaggerated. What say you?" The queen had managed to shift throughout her speech into a posture that most accentuated her gorgeous figure. Her sultry voice seemed to diminish in volume as she spoke, causing Osmund to lean closer to her over the intervening coffee table. At such close proximity he could not help but to smell her intoxicating and expensive perfume.

"Oh, so even the high and mighty have heard about that successful robbery?"

"Successful? The many prisoners and bodies given over to the gold cloaks suggest otherwise. Explain…. if you would?" she questioned with an alluring smile, barely restraining herself from making it a command.

"Yeah the recovery failed, me and my brothers saw that as soon as those armored knights appeared from below decks. I'm talking about some knight from the Vale making off with thousands of dragons of the Littlefinger's gold. Thinking about it, he mustah done in the whoremonger beforehand, or else how'd he know where to find it all? Ha ha ha, wished we couldah convinced father to throw in our lot with the Valemen. Definitely would have been safer and more profitable than sticking with Brune. But father is always one for honoring his word or contract so we stayed with Littlefinger's side until the situation grew…. untenable."

Cersei stared intently at Osmund, trying to parse his rambling heavily accented account. Once she understood it was a struggle to only smile, rather than dance about the room in joy. Someone robbed or even killed Petyr Baelish. Another loose end seemed to be wrapping itself up. Before her glee could become overtly feral she reigned herself back in to focus on her current undertaking.

"Well, if profit is your key concern then I would think House Lannister would be your best bet going forward. More specifically service to me, your queen. I have need of an enterprising group of sworn swords that can react quickly to my interests. Far too many of the knights and officers protecting my family won't budge without an order from my father. With my brother and all his supporters rushing off from King's Landing, I find myself woefully under protected. Do you see, Ser Osmund?" Cersei had moved next to the large knight on his couch and punctuated her question with a hand gently resting on his thigh.

"What exactly did you have in mind, your highness?" The knight smirked at her before looking down first to her cleavage then her wandering hand.

"I would see that the sellswords of our city look to you and your family, and thereby take their cues from their rightful sovereign, their queen. Even the gold cloaks who have in the past have strayed in regards to their true mistress could be brought back to the fold. A family, or perhaps just a man, who could pull such strings on my behalf will be well rewarded, first in gold, then perhaps in land or titles. If someone were to serve me especially faithfully there could even be more pleasurable fringe benefits to come."

As Cersei spoke she sensually stroked the knight's thigh. When she mentioned her alternative interests she began lightly using her nails to raise goose bumps on the nearly panting Ser Osmund. She turned his head towards hers and slowly inched closer as if to kiss him before speaking, "Can I count on you putting forth your best effort on my behalf?" she purred.

Ser Osmund made to close the distance, but the queen had already slipped away standing and returning to her captain's side. Not trusting himself to speak while heavily aroused, the eldest Kettleblack merely nodded strongly. With a wink, the Lannister queen swept out of the once well-appointed mansion. Halfway back to the Bell factor's home Vylarr's second in command met them with the rest of her retinue in the pungent back alley. Two darkly robed men were with them, one of which she recognized as the head of the pyromancers.

"Castor, ambushing me in the streets will not make I or my father any more likely to increase your funding. What is the meaning of this?"

"My queen, while it is truly lovely to see your royal countenance so soon after our last meeting, it is not for myself that I have sought you out. The alchemists have recently taken on a new and very skilled mind. We thought that it might be to your benefit to meet the former maester Qyburn," the unctuous chemist bowed low gesturing towards his companion.

Cersei scowled at the two men. While she somewhat agreed with her father's insistence on keeping these potioneers and chemists funded in the hopes they may invent something useful, as a group they were ugly, often with disfiguring scars, and usually reeked even amidst the pungent smells of King Landing.

"What need have I of a former maester? Adding more members to your guild will not sway my father to increase his investment beyond what was already agreed upon. You should know this already Castor," she chided.

"My queen, if I may speak on my behalf?" questioned Qyburn, a pale black haired man of middling height with shadowed eyes and guant, nearly hollowed cheeks.

"Yes, just hurry it along, you two have delayed me enough already," she sniped.

"Well, it has come to my attention that the long time Lannister supporter, Grand Measter Pycelle has left the city. Soon some new member of my old order will arrive to advise the king. Except there are no guarantees that whoever is sent will be quite so loyal to members of the extended royal family as the last Grand Maester."

"That sounded dangerously close to a threat Qyburn, you best speak quickly or Vylarr will see you removed from my presence in a permanent fashion," Cersei growled.

"No, no, no…. nothing of the sort was my intention. I am offering my services to be your personal physician. With just a small budget, perhaps a location to conduct my business in close proximity to your household, you could have my services at your beck and call. And with no other groups to pull my loyalties away from your highness's."

"Why did the order part ways with you Qyburn?" Cersei spoke with a menace that most of the kingdom would be shocked to see. The presumption of this worm was already souring her jubilant mood from successfully gaining the allegiance of the Kettleblack sellswords, a group that would soon swell in size and influence if she had any say in the matter.

"Those fools. They were weak-kneed cowards. I forged my Valyrian Steel link, and then they expected me to just ignore all of the power at my fingertips to become yet another useless scholar. True power, is for those who have the strength to take it. I imagine that is something we both share my queen?" His black eyes bored into her, giving the impression of seeing far more than is visible. As well, his thin bloodless lips crawled into an awkward smile.

Cersei was startled to hear this explanation. This could be a very fortuitous opportunity. Pycelle had always been her father's man first. To have her own maester, one skilled in sorcery no less. It was too good a situation to pass up. If she had need of more loyal swords, then having another avenue to grow her strength would be just as useful.

"I am intrigued Qyburn. I will send word to Castor when it is convenient to speak of this matter again. Good day."

The two men knelt as her retinue continued on its way back to the main road and then to the Red Keep. Pyromancer Caster congratulated his relatively new acquaintance on gaining the favor of the queen. Had he been able to read the thoughts behind Qyburn's benign smiling face, he may have shuddered or even considered dropping one of the vails of wildfire held in his belt pouch at the man's feet.

HP & aSoIaF

"You feel it now don't you?" Hermione asked, sitting at the other end of Harry's preferred couch.

"Yes, but what is this sensation?"

"You are sleeping now. You have finally recovered enough magic into your body, or your core as many wizards were fond of calling it. A vast simplification of a very complex topic that is still not entirely understood. But since the metaphor does somewhat reflect reality, that wizards and witches have a finite ability to cast spells that recharges gradually overtime…." Harry interrupts her with a grin and some poorly stifled chuckles. "Pardon me for being precise you great prat!" Hermoine then turned away pouting, though she quickly showed the insincerity of her indignation by returning Harry's smile.

"Does this mean that our time is up?"

"Not yet. Yes, you could force yourself awake now, but we do have one last topic to discuss. Your dream, the one I found you in. Do you know what that was all about?" Hermoine asked gently, showing her concern.

"Nightmare seems more accurate," he sighed. Not for the first time in this marathon session in the grimoire Harry struggled to speak.

"Perhaps I could start. In your birth world there was a lot of study done on the mind and trauma. It was well documented that when children witness, experience or commit violence it could have a profoundly negative effect on their mental health. But even in most adults, even those who had previously dealt with such horrible situations in the past, there were always consequences. You have now killed and maimed people, you were also in danger of losing your own life. That is traumatic especially the first time it occurs."

"This is the reason I am here, as opposed to Potter. I am not only responsible for your developing morality, but your mental health. Archmage Potter would not allow this grimoire to teach those who will bring great harm onto themselves and others. So, I must ask you, how do you feel about the recent battle?" Hermoine schooled her features into a more neutral appearance and waited for Harry to respond.

"This isn't my first brush with combat. Why should this be any different?"

"Your own mind is telling you that it is. You haven't had these types of nightmares before. You don't know yet if you'll have flashbacks, unexplained anger, or any other possible symptoms. Think back to that dream, what was important?"

"I…. the other people…. they were afraid of me. And I destroyed them anyway. That's not how a knight should fight. Every other time…." Harry paused to gather his thoughts. "When I faced others in tourneys, or against Baelish and Pycelle, it was always a contest. We matched our skills and mettle to achieve victory. In the battle, I wanted to murder all my enemies. Slaughter any who stood in my way. Oh Seven, what did I do?" he muttered in shocked horror.

"Isn't that the purpose of combat, or war? Kill your enemies in order to get your way, even if your way only means that you and yours get to continue living when the other side wishes you dead and gone. Haven't you been trained for this as a squire and seen it in action in the Disputed Territories?" Hermoine asked playing devil's advocate.

"Yes, but…. That was other people involved. You know I've seen criminals beaten or executed even before becoming a squire. My knightly training was only an idea not yet realized in the world. This was different. I killed men, I stole their lives and their futures," Harry's voice become husky with emotion, his eyes watered and he looked away from Hermoine in shame.

"That could be it. Yet those men were also trying to kill you. They were threatening the lives of those under your command. Isn't it okay to prevent your own death, to save the lives of those you care about? I think this shame and blaming has another cause. Were you in control of yourself during the fight?"

"Of course! How else could I have fought so well?" he responded defensively.

"So you did not have any factors that impaired or altered you mind?"

And then Harry saw where Hermoine was leading him, "The rage potion. I was so tired. I was worried I would falter or appear weak in front of the Royces or my men. I've heard plenty of stories about berserkers, warriors that would fuel their fighting with anger out of control," Harry trailed off, his mind numb.

"Not only did that potion push you into magical exhaustion, but it removed your control. It was designed for use on your enemies. To make them attack their own allies or start hostilities so you wouldn't appear the aggressor. It turns men into beasts, with their only thought to strike out and crush their adversaries, even if they must create their own foes. You knew this, it was made very clear to you during your potions lessons. Those that opposed you did have cause to fear you. In some ways, your passing out may have been a blessing, as it prevented you from attacking your own side."

"So, this is it. One foolish error turns victory into anguish. I must atone for this. I turned myself into a monster. How can I look myself in the mirror, or my family?" he lamented.

"You will talk to your men, and your family, especially your brothers who will understand the best. Explain to them what you can and ask forgiveness if you think it necessary. Most importantly you will understand how and why you made such a poor decision. There are likely many factors yet what I must stress to you is that you were afraid. You worried that your normal power and prowess would not be sufficient. And then you looked to magic to make it all better," Hermoine admonished.

"That cannot be your response if you are to continue working with this grimoire. This is where all dark wizards and witches get their start. They feel the need for more power and begin to take foolish risks or ignore consequences. In this way, they begin to hurt others and themselves. Which unfortunately makes them even more likely to do so again, as others react to their horrid acts or the dark magic damages their minds and bodies. Thus leading the newly darkening wizard to fear even more for their safety and seek out more power. Do you see?" Hermoine questioned him sternly.

"Yes," he grumbled. Hermoine was not satisfied and asked again. "Yes! I understand mostly. I'll need to think more about this, but I get what you are saying about how this trauma relates to my abusing magic. I did something bad and now I'm feeling the repercussions, and as you say I will continue to for some time. But I vow that I will pay this price and will not fall victim to my fear again."

"I am glad I've gotten through to you about the seriousness of this issue. But do not be unrealistic. You are a young man. You will make mistakes in the future. You will face this dilemma again though it may be in a way that is not apparent at the time. I will be here for you. So will your family, your loved ones, and eventually your followers. Do not take on burdens that would be easier to bear with the help of friends. It is when people take on these difficult challenges alone that they start to ignore the problem or drown it in ale, or even fall fully into evil. Now give me a hug before we part ways for a time."

They did embrace for quite a while. Harry slowly relaxed from his overwrought state and then stood. He waved to Hermoine then closed his eyes, focusing on his physical sensations.

HP & aSoIaF

A few moments later he became aware of his surroundings though kept his eyes closed to assess his whereabouts. From the sounds and sway of the room he realized he was still on a ship. He opened his eyes to find his current second, Gardan looking at him with worry. His body felt incredibly weak, yet he forced himself to sit up. Harry recognized he was in the captain's cabin again.

"What day is it? How long have a been out?" he asked his subordinate who scowled.

"Two days, plus most of this night. What happened Ser?" Gardan asked with much misgiving entering his voice.

"I…. I made a mistake. Wizard Potter gave me some small drams of what he called potions. He was worried I would be too tired for battle, and that I would get myself killed and ruin his efforts. I thought I took the elixirs for strength and alertness but one of them was something else or perhaps I had a bad reaction. I've never felt rage like that. It was terrible, I've been having horrible dreams replaying the battle. What have people been saying?" Harry hung his head in shame as he waited for the leader of the Arryn sworn swords under his command to respond.

Gardan seemed to mull his explanation over before slowly responding, "Most weren't too concerned. You fucking wrecked those sellswords just as we were about to be overrun. So I guess most see it as a miracle sent by the Warrior. A few, including me and Robyr are a might worried about what's going on with this Wizard. Why is he around, and what's his game? The Seven Pointed Star teaches that magic will lead to damnation, so we're wondering why you've been acting so chummy with his so-called help. Is he controlling you, is that why we got the Master of Coin and the Grand Maester trussed up below deck?" he questioned.

"Oh Seven! The maester, is he still locked up? Did he escape?" Harry asked frantically, realizing his sleeping potion would have long worn off.

"What are you on about. Of course he's still locked up. Where the seven hells is he going to go while we're still sailing?" Garden asked in confusion.

"You don't understand. The Grand Maester forged his Valyrian Steel link." When Gardan still looked perplexed Harry continued, "He uses magic too. I saw them. A magical duel between Pycelle and Potter. After Potter won, the wizard made me swear to feed him a potion every day to keep him from using his magic to get free. But I've missed two days. I can see you're worried about all this accursed sorcery, but we could be facing it on our own soon. Sergeant, I need your help. Bring me to Pycelle immediately." Gardan's faced drained at the thought of facing magic himself so he rather frantically assisted Ser Hardyng into some clothes as well as returning his pouches and weapons that were hidden in a locked trunk.

They hurried below to the makeshift cells in the bilge and sighed in relief to see both prisoners still manacled and under guard. Both were also gagged for slightly different reasons. According to the Arryn men-at-arms Petyr Baelish had spent hours wheedling and tempting any that came near him to release him for future gold, even the small folk who brought him his meals. Frankly everyone was sick of listening to his oily voice, especially as it had spread throughout the ship that all the man's gold had already been seized by Ser Hardyng. Whereas Littlefinger wished to be released as befitted his status as a minor lord of the Vale, Pycelle had been relentless in his efforts to get his special manacles off. Whining, faking sickness, soiling himself, and playing up his advanced age to assist his begging. Pycelle was gagged so none of his guards would be tempted to kill him just to shut him up.

Ser Hardyng immediately pulled out the gag and with the assistance of Gardan forced the old man to take another sleeping potion. While Harry wished he could use this opportunity to start delving deeper into both prisoner's memories he knew his magic depletion was severe. Instead he returned to the captain's cabin to slake his gnawing hunger on bread and some cold leftover fish from the evening meal. Despite barely remaining awake to finish his food, he requested Gardan to wake him in the morning so he could meet with Ser Nerris and the Royces.

After a blessedly dreamless sleep Harry resumed the boring routine of nautical travel. Though now on a ship that was severely cramped and much louder with the addition of the returning smallfolk and the Royce sworn swords. With Ser Nerris busy captaining the ship, the meeting was put off to that evening. During the day, Harry took the opportunity to resurface the floor of the captain's cabin, removing his travel array. He also added this version of his traveling array to the list that shouldn't be used again inside his occlumency storage space. Far too many now knew not only that this symbol was associated with Wizard Potter, but also that it related to teleportation. It was possible some could even recreate the symbol in the future. A deadly risk he could not afford.

Ser Hardyng hoped to convince both the captain and Lord Royce to support his coming bid to claim the lordship of House Arryn. Ser Nerris would be important because over the next three weeks he could meet with up to eight of the other knighted Captains that ran the ten ships in the Arryn fleet. The soldiers and sailors manning these ships, the men-at-arms stationed around the Lords harbor, as well as the soldiers that guarded the custom officials constituted the largest force of Arryn bannermen outside the actual Vale of Arryn.

Lord Royce was important not only for his own house's power but because he was one of the richest and most respected lords in the Vale. Many of the lesser lords in the Fingers of the symbolic Vale's hand looked to him for advice and coordination in the region. If Harry could get his support, along with his mother's and two other major lords, then almost any of the possible outcomes of the trial of Tyrion Lannister would result in him becoming the new Lord Arryn. After the evening bells both men joined him in the captain's cabin.

"I can imagine you have many questions? Let me tell you what I know, and between the three of us I hope we can plan to get my great uncle Jon justice as well as ensure peace and stability in the Vale. While the both of you were away, Lysa and Catelyn nee Tully arrested Tyrion Lannister on charges of murdering Jon Arryn and the attempted murder of Brandon Stark. I thought this to be unlikely and went to the Eyrie to find out what the seven hells was going on!" Ser Nerris knew this part of the tale already but Lord Royce looked shocked.

"Lysa…. Lysa is unhinged. Despite the Blackfish's best efforts, it became pretty obvious that Tyrion was being used as a scapegoat, one very poorly chosen due to his family's vengeful history. It was also extremely suspicious that when I confronted her for trying to execute Tyrion without trial, she became enrage and called for my execution. I then questioned Robert's parentage and her reaction blatantly showed she was guilty of something. The next day I was exiled from the Vale by our dear Lady Regent," he growled sarcastically.

"Your cousin, the Steward, stepped in to arrange an actual trial as well as provided the writ I gave to you Captain Nerris. I was determined to find the truth and did I ever. But I never would have figured out anything without the man who calls himself Wizard Potter. He visited me during my first night in the capital. Initially he presented himself as Jon's personal master of whispers, so I told him my suspicions about Lysa and Petyr killing Jon. He agreed and led me directly to Littlefinger. That is when I first learned he could do magic, as Baelish set a large force of bodyguards against us. We would not have survived if he hadn't used magic to aid us." Harry met both men's eyes to convey the seriousness of his brush with death at the hands of the whoremonger.

"He brought me and Baelish back to my room with that transporting magic, told me his name and that he owed a debt to Jon Arryn that he intended to pay by aiding me in finding justice for our Lord Paramount. Without his ability to invade minds we would never have learned anything about the conspiracy to kill Lord Arryn, or why any of this occurred in the first place. Without his prowess in magical combat, I would not have been able to defeat the grand maester's magic nor learn that the so-called healer drugged Jon to prevent him from talking or dictating a will, then covered up the poisoning with a story about illness and old age." As he spoke Harry was again seething put took a beat to control his anger so he could continue.

"So I hope you can agree that I do have some cause to trust this Wizard. Not fully of course. I have no knowledge of any debt nor how or when it could be repaid. I'm not even sure if we will ever see Potter again. Perhaps he will show up later demanding favors on some future day. I saw the situation as him becoming a temporary ally while we were in the capital, and am therefore willing to hear him out if he ever returns. I will seek out my own maester with mystical knowledge to hopefully protect the Vale if this Wizard proves himself false," Harry reasoned.

"I am somewhat reassured that you are not fully in this wizard's control. Just as important, my family has never trusted the order of maesters. They hoard their knowledge too tightly and are far too discouraging to any who question their expertise or their role. If this conversation is heading the way I suspect, then we must speak further on the subject soon. Pycelle's treachery could give the Vale an opportunity to remove their linked collars from around our necks." Yohn seemed to approve of Harold's conclusions, but Ser Nerris continued to keep his thoughts hidden behind a neutral face.

"What I am asking of you two is your support in the confrontation that may be coming to the Vale. During Tyrion's trial, I intend to wrest power away from that murderous Tully woman and ensure the continuance of the Arryn line. Wizard Potter learned from Baelish that Lysa was taking moon tea throughout her marriage after she had her first miscarriage. She only ceased these deceitful precautions once she resumed her affair with Petyr. A man who had already gotten her pregnant before her marriage. I do not believe Robert to be an Arryn, rather a bastard Baelish. I cannot allow that madwoman to live much longer much less prosper from her crimes. What say you?"

Ser Nerris began to speak but caught himself and deferred to the noble Royce. Yet Yohn was in no hurry to reveal his thoughts.

"Ser Harold, when you came to my home in the middle of the night and coerced my aid in defending this ship, you mentioned a fourth conspirator. I was assured that you would reveal that person to me. On the surface, I have no love of the Tully's or Littlefinger taking control of our lord paramount's seat. Yet there are even larger dangers lurking beyond our kingdom that might sway me to keep my house neutral, and safe. I must know." Yohn implored.

Harry agreed to tell him, but only him, asking the captain for his forgiveness as well as assuring him it was safer to not know this secret. Ser Nerris then gave his total support to the young knight. When pressed for the reason he revealed a few. First, he was worried about his ongoing income and position if a madwoman and a dying child took hold of his sworn house. Secondly, he was impressed with Harold himself during the time they had been together. And finally, he was greatly concerned about the continuing favor the Graftons had been shown even over the interests of the Arryns or Shetts by Littlefinger, going back many years to his time as head customs official of Gulltown. He was eager for a lord that would increase his holdings vigorously as he assumed Harry would, rather than hobble his own supporters to curry favor with the most prominent Lord of Gulltown.

Harry, aware of this favoritism even before leaving for Essos, assured the Captain that not only would he be empowering his factors and captains upon taking control, but he planned to make a massive investment in expanding the Arryn fleet and incomes in Gulltown. Lord Royce commended him for his plans to reign in 'that up-jumped merchant' that was his annoying lordly neighbor. Harry then promised to meet again with the captain and his customs officers once on land to make plans. They would need to ensure the known Baelish supporter, Lord Gerald Grafton would be prevented from sending any support to Lysa should she manage to contest his taking control of his house.

After Ser Nerris left to bunk in with his first mate, Lord Royce was cajoled into swearing an oath to keep what he was about to learn secret. At least until Ser Harold freed him from the oath. Harry had every intention of learning how to enforce this oath with magic discretely later in the journey.

"Yohn, even now I am hesitant to speak. I know this stems from my hopes to avoid another conflict of the great houses, yet that isn't such a bad hope?" Seeing that Yohn was not swayed, Harry sighed and continued, "It is very likely that when King Robert dies, there will be a war of succession. Queen Cersei conspired with Littlefinger to prevent the Hand from informing the King of her adulterous treason. You see, Lord Jon found out that none of the royal children are the King's."

When Lord Royce responded to this revelation with skepticism, Harry continued, "All unions between a Lannister and a Baratheon have always produced children with Baratheon features. Yet both princes and the princess are golden of hair and green of eye. This quirk of bloodlines isn't widely known at this time, but despite Cersei's silencing of my great uncle, any competent maester can learn the truth with some study. In our lifetimes, the Baratheons will be forced to remove the false royals from the throne, if they can. This is inevitable due to the unfailingly just Stannis being his brother's oldest legitimate heir," Harry related. He also wondered why even now he couldn't muster the righteous fury towards the queen that he felt towards the other murderers. His only conclusion was her incredible resemblance to Kara.

Lord Royce's mouth gaped in surprise at the ramifications of this disclosure. Images of Robert's Rebellion played out in his thoughts. "Why didn't you warn the King and Lord Stark before you left? It is our duty to our king to reveal this treachery," Yohn snapped at Harry.

"Is it wrong to wish to avoid yet another war ravaging the Seven Kingdoms? Very soon House Tully will become enemies of the Vale. I will see Lysa dead, and Petyr too who was fostered at Riverrun. As I see it, when the stags fight the lions, many will seize the opportunity to strike at their neighbors. Those damn fishes might take the chance to avenge themselves, with the Starks also drawn in against us if they aren't already fully engaged against the Lannisters on Stannis's behalf. I don't want any of my countrymen to die over that wretched throne, so I hope that Robert keeps on living and the current peace continues. At the very least I want to buy some time to consolidate my rule and make some plans on how to move against Cersei," he argued.

"You would let one of Jon's murderers go without punishment? You would force the king to continue suffering under the illusion he hasn't been betrayed? What you yourself are contesting? That Robin isn't an Arryn? This does not resemble the Arryns words. How are lies and secrecy 'As High as Honor'?" While the bronze Yohn's words were inflammatory, Harry recognized what they really were, a test. One that could earn or lose the Royces support going forward.

"Must our honor be acted upon immediately? I have no intention of letting that adulterous harpy escape justice, nor for her bastard children to rule. But I hope I am not the only one to notice how strongly the Lannisters hold Kings Landing in their grip. Or how perilously outmanned are the soldiers loyal to the King or the Hand in the capital. My honor will not allow me to set in motion their deaths just to revenge Lord Jon's."

"If I have my way, this horrible truth will be revealed to all nobles of the Vale soon after they swear their fealty to House Arryn once again. With the support of many maesters behind us, no assassination of one or a few will be able to hide this crime against the Old Gods and the New. Then we can discretely inform those who should know and allow them to prepare for the fallout, just as I am preparing now for the fall of Lysa." Harry looked into Lord Royce's eyes, imploring him to understand.

The older lord considered the young knight before him for a few moments. Though for Harry it felt likes ages had passed in silence. Eventually Lord Royce nodded his head and extended his hand. The young knight was startled at first, but quickly grasped the other man's upper wrist. They shook once to seal their alliance then spent a few more moments discussing how this royal scandal could play out depending on when the news spread and who would learn of it first. Eventually they decided this was too momentous to be dealt with by them alone. When Harold took the lordship of House Arryn they would meet again with several of the most prominent and cunning of the Vale lords to decide upon an actual strategy.

Harry tried to turn over the captain's cabin to Lord Royce in gratitude, now that he was no longer unconscious or too tired to move. Yet Yohn suggested he should get used to being deferred to. Other lords and ladies might take insult to what he had just done. Most would likely note him as a weak leader if he treated his social lesser as equals or of higher status than himself. The sage advice reminded him of past lessons with Lady Anya back when he was still Jon Arryn's heir. As he lay in bed, avoiding sleep and possible nightmares, Harry used occlumency to review past lessons preparing him for just this situation. Unfortunately, even studying his memories until he was completely exhausted did not save him from troubled sleep. He was at least thankful upon waking that he couldn't remember exactly which nightmares had plagued him.

HP & aSoIaF

 _Gulltown, Lord's Harbor, Gull's Dinner docking berth_

 _Four days after Harry regained consciousness, May 298_

Harry gathered the belongings scattered around his temporary accommodations over the course of the trip from Kings Landing to Gulltown. While he was now fully recovered, Harry was ruefully that due to lingering magical exhaustion he missed many opportunities to mentally interrogate his two prisoners. Instead the young knight split his time between training his squire and combing through all the many records found alongside Baelish's gold stashes. Not to mention his usual magical study protected by a Notice-me-not ward. He did manage to spend some time plotting with Lord Royce as well as getting further instruction on the Arryn's naval and mercantile holdings in Gulltown from the captain and his boatswain.

The remainder of the voyage was not all boredom and scheming. Every day he would visit with the returning members of his great uncle's staff. Part interview and part attempt to win back their loyalty, he was mostly successful. Seventeen would return with him to Moon Gate to find roles again with house Arryn. Six would stay on as staff in Gulltown for the current Arryn steward Marq Arrynton, an extremely distant relation. There was even a couple that wanted to be far from any city or town that he convinced to work for him at the Hardyng lands.

Perhaps more important were the awkward conversations he had with Robyr. Gone was the easy camaraderie they had exhibited in the capital. The red-headed second son was struggling with many deep thoughts. They talked of religion, comparing the worship of the Old Gods the Royce grew up with versus the Faith of the Seven that he has mostly converted to during his time as a squire. Now he was unsure of which to religion to believe. Harry added fuel to the fire by question why he had to choose. Where they really mutually exclusive?

Submerged in all this spiritual talk was Robyr's great unease with the subject of magic. The topic surfaced a couple times in their discussions. The red-headed knight was reassured when Harry denounced the sacrificial rituals and grotesque priests of most Essosi religions that could cast spells. Robyr was equally shocked to learn there were sorcerers amongst the maester order. Harry would always try to steer the conversation back to honor. If the magician acted honorably to those around them, then shouldn't they be allowed to continue in their usage of magic. Whereas those who use their magic for evil actions, should be both damned by all gods as well as fought by any true knight they should encounter. Robyr did not seem entirely convinced by this argument.

Their talks were not only for Robyr's benefit, but a test for future attempts to win over Vale nobility to Harry's point of view. After discussing things with the Hermoine Aspect he had many plans to turn the Vale into a much more accepting place for the mystical. He hoped to make changes in how the maesters and the Faith operated in the Vale to facilitate a possible reveal of the separate magical enclave Harry was also planning to setup. Harry hoped that one day magic could be used throughout the Vale to help all his subjects.

He also wanted to wrest away control of religion from the extremely corrupt High Septon into more local and adaptable hands. The same for the maesters, even if he was forced to create a rival scholarly organization. His only partially successful attempts to win Robyr over with his arguments tempered his zeal somewhat, reminding him this would be a process that could take decades to achieve. If it could be achieved at all.

Harry Potter's setbacks did not only take place in the realm of philosophy. He was greatly surprised to find that he could not bind Yohn Royce to his oath of secrecy after the fact. There was a simplistic ritual involving cut palms and a spell that could force a non-magical to keep their word to a magical. This was unfortunately not something he could start doing until his position was far more secure. Harry briefly considered casting a Fidelius charm to protect the knowledge of the false royals, but couldn't get himself to aid Cersei that much just to keep control of the situation.

With his travel chest now packed, and dressed in his chain mail and leathers for travel he stared out the ship width window out onto the Lord's Harbor. The deepest portion of the bay Gulltown grew around, it contained fifteen berths of varying sizes connected to a quay about one sixth the size of Kings Landing's. The entire dock rose into a walled compound around a central keep. Once the seat of the Shett kings, the aged Fort now housed the Arryn steward and custom's officials. This small fortification was surrounded by a score of warehouses within the walled section under full Arryn control. What House Arryn didn't use for its own trade was rented out to other Vale lords that desired to trade in security and with diminished tariffs.

He noted a few ships, one from Wickenden, another from the Three Sisters, another Arryn galley, and what looked like a cog from Braavos loading timber. For a moment, he lost himself in thinking about the intricacies of Vale economics and his house's role and position. A knock on the door broke his reverie. It was Porthos the first mate letting him know the smallfolk has disembarked and his man Gardan was asking for him to oversee the unloading of their special cargo. He emerged on deck seeing sailors carrying trunks and crates mostly full of the spoils from Baelish's caches over to a loading wench.

On land were a couple wagons ringed by his men-at-arms and further up the berth were the Royces waiting to say their goodbyes before heading home to nearby Runestone. Harry dipped back below decks and joined six of his soldiers in escorting the two prisoners, still gagged, manacled, and with cloth bags over their heads. When the two men were placed in separate wagons he headed over to say his parting words to Yohn, Robyr, and the other sworn swords he had gotten to know during the trip. Harry had just clasped hands with Robyr and was about to turn back to his nearly loaded wagons when he saw a group emerge from keep that made him freeze in…. shock? (terror?)

"Oh, bloody buggering bollocks," he cursed to himself.

"Is that anyway to great your mother Harold Hardyng!" said Lady Anya Waynwood, somehow having heard his whispered epithet through divine motherly intuition.

AN: Some of the background on Gulltown, and the Vale in general, going forward will be original content. I am primarily doing this because Martin never went into describing these people or locations.

AN2: For those curious, I did give up writing for quite a while due to real life issues. But thankfully the drive and opportunity to write has again returned.


End file.
